Detroit and The Good Life With You
by Christoph Andretti
Summary: It's been two years since Yuuri retired from skating and became engaged to Victor. So, are they going to sit back and enjoy the sunset? Hell, No! Instead, they move to Detroit, USA and take in an annoyed Yuri Plisetsky as their student and train him to win the Grand Prix while teaching him a thing or two about skating, Eros, and possibly love in the Motor City.
1. Chapter 1: This Is Home?

The wooden floorboards squeaked and squealed with every grunt. Yuuri had a weird thing where he made a tiny squeal every time Victor brushed his hand on his earlobes. It was a major turn for Victor as he continued to have his way with the timid man underneath him. Everything was perfect as they joined together again and again in their new apartment.

However, one thing was bothering him.

"Yuuri," Victor said as he stopped with his actions. Yuuri looked up at him as he kept gasping for air.

"Keep going, Victor. Please."

"I will my pork cutlet. But first, can we please take that picture off the wall.

Yuuri looked over to the charcoal grey wall opposite him. It was a picture of him when he was younger. The rotund boy with extra layers of jackets and coats was falling down on his skates while his mother watched him from the side of the rink.

"What's wrong with the picture," Yuuri huffed.

Victor stammered. "Well, it...it's just weird to make love with you while I'm seeing you as a five-year-old. It's kind of a turn-off."

Ten seconds later, they continued.

* * *

Yuri Plisetsky was done with his life.

Lying on the twin bed with pink comforter, the blonde teenager growled with fury as he flung the covers to the side. Leaping to his feet, he yanked the white door open. The bare white walls in the hallway were dark as an old chandelier swung around on the ceiling. Yuri bolted down the hallway and climbed up the stairs like a firefighter in a burning building.

Once on the second floor, he went down the lavender-scented hallway and came upon a blue door. He hammered on it with a clenched fist.

"I haven't been able to sleep all week because of you two! Stop it," he shouted.

The rumbling stopped as a few whispers escaped the room into Yuri's small ears. He heard clothes being thrown while the bed creaked more.

Yuri looked down at his phone. Another night of terror at 3 A.M.

The door opened. A taller gray haired man huffed to catch his breath. Wearing a too large grey sweater and sweatpants, he smiled while lassoing air into his lungs. Their blue eyes matched while Yuri shivered in disgust.

"It smells like a cat died in there," Yuri shouted. "Can you put some air fresheners around here next time."

"Well, good morning to you, Yurio," Victor said.

"Don't call me that, old man," Yuri yelled. "I have a fucking test tomorrow, and I can't sleep with you two fucking every night."

A brown haired man with glasses popped his head into the doorframe. His hair was shining in the moonlight with sweat as he tugged the collar on his big red sweatshirt. "Please don't use that language in my house."

"Shut up, Yuuri," the Russian shouted. "Bottoms aren't supposed to talk."

"What do you want, Yurio?" Victor said with a grin.

"Just sleep like normal people. I'm tired of coming up here to tell you two to stop having sex. How the hell is it even possible for you two to go at it this long?"

"Yuuri has stamina," Victor said with a wink.

Yuuri blushed as he turned around and headed back to the large bed in the giant master bedroom. Victor chuckled as he started to close the door.

Yuri thrusted his hand at the door and held it open. "Listen, old man. I don't care who has stamina or what. I need sleep, and you're getting in the way of it. I won't win shit at Grand Prix if you keep doing this."

Victor frowned and scratched his grey hair. They fell silent as the soft rumbling of cars rolled past them from the street below. Victor looked at the fuming Russian. Maybe he had been a little selfish with Yuuri and their proclivities.

"Okay," Victor said. He turned around towards his fiance. "Yuuri, daytime sex only. We can't keep Yurio awake anymore."

Yuri rolled his eyes and turned around. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me up at seven."

* * *

Yuri took a sip of the drab tap water from the golden faucet. The condominium had a decent view of Downtown Detroit as the sun began to rise on another gray day. The clouds hung low as cars travelled on the streets like ants building a colony. Yuri leaned on the black marble counter while the classical music from his routine played in his headphones. He adjusted his toes in the white slippers he had on as he munched on a protein bar. The television sat dormant next to the large bay windows leading towards the balcony overlooking the city.

Yuri hated Detroit. He hated the rink Yuuri and Victor had him skating at. He hated the routine he was being forced into by his new trainers. He hated the school he had to attend.

 _"It will be great for your health," Victor said at the dinner table one day. Piling katsudon on his plate, Victor chuckled. "Maybe you're learn how to be a real teenage boy."_

That, and America had laws about kids under a certain age being educated. In Russia, nobody cared as long as you brought pride to the country.

Victor ruffled Yuri's blonde hair, causing him to shriek in shock at the surprise. He leapt forward and rubbed his head.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Morning person, I take it?" Victor said with a grin.

"Shut it," Yuri said. "I have to go school."

Yuri reached down for the white backpack and shrugged on his Russian team hoodie. Throwing the hoodie over his head, he dragged the backpack on the linoleum floors as he reached the front door.

"Have a great day," Victor said. "Enjoy being a normal kid."

"Fuck you," Yuri said. "See you at practice."

Yuri opened and slammed the door. Fumbling in his skinny jeans pockets, he pulled out keys and locked he front door. Yuri was always worried that the unlocked door in the morning would lead to a robbery. He wanted to save any potential home invaders of witnessing Victor and Yuuri celebrating their new apartment.

Yuri went out onto the street. The strong wind stroked Yuri's pale skin as he walked down the cracked sidewalk. Kicking a rock, his frown deepened with every step he took passing the shabby hole in the wall. He smelled caramel, and he hated caramel.

That was the place Yuri met Victor and Yuuri when they told him to come and visit them. He remembered the conversation like it was yesterday. When they told him that they would be his trainers, he nearly choked on the hot caramel latte. He swore he still had burns down his throat.

" _You want to train me? After lying like last time, you think I'll fall for it?"_

 _"I know I messed up, Yurio. The good news is that Yuuri is now officially retired, so we can both help you win the Grand Prix."_

Yuuri sat in the corner with a look of anxiety stretching over his face for an hour as they hashed out the details.

Victor was an opportunist, Yuri thought. He didn't actually care about him. he cared about winning. That's why he jumped ship to the Japanese skater. He did not want to be used again. Not after the disappointment of the past two years. If Victor wanted to circle-jerk him, he would shank him with the used needles he saw laying around in the alleyways of this stupid city. Out of all the places in America, they had to pick one of the poorest and most dreadful ones in the world. Why couldn't they live in Los Angeles or even New York City.

 _"There's more to this country than the coasts, Yurio," Victor lectured him. "This places means a lot to us. It's where Yuuri got his start."_

 _"That was actually Japan," Yuuri corrected as he drained down another white chocolate mocha._

 _"The other reason is, since property value is low around here, rent isn't all that bad. So it's either here, or you can spend ten grand living in a closet in Hollywood."_

Even though Yuri yelled that he would rather live in a serial killer's basement than with them, his training regiment required that he be near the two morons.

There was something in those cerulean eyes that made him believe Victor. He seemed like such a carefree person. Would he really be smart enough to make a long con like that? Win the guy, and then the future figure skating champion of the world.

Yuri scoffed as he walked down the street hunched over and his hands stuffed in his pockets. They were probably screwing each other like bonobo monkeys right now.

Yuri looked up at the large brown building in the middle of the city. It was an old building, but at least it had running water and electricity. Some schools in this area did not even have that much. Yuri kept his head down and walked through the metal detectors in the front entrance before climbing up stairs. The grandfather clock in the lobby said he was five minutes late again, but Yuri could not care less.

Leaving Russia sucked. Packing all of his belongings into a plane and having it lost by movers for two weeks was bad, but finding out that he had to live in one of the worst places possible was even worse. The icing on top was living with the gay lovebirds that could not go two minutes in practice without making out. Yuri had to tap on the glass of the ice rink and get them to concentrate. It was horribly distracting.

A gasp.

Yuri looked up just in time to crash headfirst into a vending machine. He bounced off the surface and fell to the ground. His body ached from the sudden impact, but his ego was forever bruised by the sad run-in. He felt a pair of feet rumble up towards him.

"Oh my god, are you okay? Did you break something?" A light, soft voice said.

Yuri looked up and saw a pair of blue eyes. Unlike Victor's, these were much darker and practically sparkled in the dim florescent hallway light. Stepping back slightly, Yuri saw it was a blonde girl wearing the green school uniform. She had a clear white face and straight blonde hair in a pixie cut.

Yuri stumbled to his feet and groaned. "Damn it. I should look up once in a while," He said in his thick, Russian accent.

The girl gasped. "Is your neck okay? Was that from the fall?" She asked.

Yuri felt his neck. The skin still stung from the dark bruise that spread over the side of his neck covered by his hoodie.

"No, that's from something else."

The girl sighed. "Okay, that's good. Are you new here?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. Looking down at the linoleum floor, he began to saunter away. "Can't talk. Have class."

The girl trotted next to him. "With who?"

"Mrs...I forgot. It's an American sounding name. Still not great with english yet."

"Mrs. Jones?"

"Maybe."

"No, that's her name. You're in my class. You sit in the corner by the window every day."

Yuri looked at her. She had a small smile on her soft, angular face. "You stalking me?"

She scratched her neck. "Stalking? But we're in the same class. How could I be stalking you."

"Because you know my teacher's name."

"We're in the same class."

Yuri sighed. "I haven't been paying attention, so I don't know who is in that class."

"Maybe you should meet people."

"I met you, I guess."

"What's my name."

"Don't care. Late for class."

"We don't have class. The school emailed us that first period was cancelled today for the lockdown drills."

Yuri snorted. "Lockdown drills?"

The girl nodded. "Every year, we practice lockdown drills in schools around here. Today is another of them. Technically, I'm the police officer, so I have to pretend to arrest you now. I'll let you go though if you tell me you're name."

Yuri rolled his eyes again. "Lady, you should know my name by now. I hear people say stuff about me all the time."

"You're Yuri Plisetsky."

Yuri shrugged. "So are we good? You Americans are so talkative for no reason."

She laughed. "My name is Isabel."

"Again, don't care. So, this lockdown stuff, does it happen in this country often?"

"Not really, but pretty much everyone carries a knife around here. You never know when you'll have one used against you."

"That wasn't on the tourism website, but thanks for telling me," Yuri said. He looked around and took out his phone. Texting Victor, he made a note to ask about this sort of stuff later.

"I'm leaving now," he said while turning around to head down the stairs. Before the girl could say anything else, he ran across the large lobby and out of the doors. An extra few hours at the ice rink would help clear his mind.

* * *

The katsudon Yuuri made was pretty bad compared to the stuff they make in Japan. However, Victor seemed to care zero as he munched down the food like it was his last meal on death row. He kept talking and touching Yuuri in certain areas under the table, which made eating with them quite stressful. Every time Victor began to play footsie, Yuuri would leap up a mile in his chair. His face became redder than the tomatoes rotting in the refrigerator.

"Seriously, though. You did well today, Yurio," Victor said. "I just need more of that emotion towards the end."

"I'm sorry that I'm not an expert on love, old man," Yuri said. "I cant give you those emotions yet."

"That's the piece that we have made for you. If you want to win Skate USA, you can't skate the program out of anger."

Yuri slammed down his fork. "I don't skate out of anger. I skate out of desire. Out of my need to win. You may not realize that since you two have already won Grand Prix, but I haven't gotten that desire out of me."

Yuuri cleared his throat. "Well, how was school today. American schools are always fun, right?"

"I skipped today."

"Again?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. "We had some of the day off because these schools do some strange drill. Like a fire drill, but for other stuff. A girl in the hallway told me that."

Victor gasped. He dropped his chopstick with the drama of a fainting southern belle and clasped his hands together. "A girl told you that? Is it a girl you know?"

I knew you would go nuts," Yuri said mostly to himself. "No, I didn't meet her. She said words. I said words. That's it."

Victor smiled and took Yuuri in his arms, snuggling with him like a mother black bear defending her cub. "That's how my pork cutlet and I met. This could mean something. After all, this program is about l-."

"I know what the program is about. That's why I hate it!" Yuri shouted. He shot up like a lightening bolt from his chair and ran towards his room. Flinging the door open, he jumped onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

This was the routine in Yuri Plisetsky's life. Wake up to the sound of Victor and Yuuri, go to that awful school in this awful city. Go to the rink. Practice. Do enough to get a C in English, and go to sleep after yelling at Victor.

With six weeks before the first competition in the Grand Prix, all of that was going to be thrown upside down.

* * *

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	2. The Plot Curdles?

Yuri took a deep sigh in the empty apartment. The gray sky outside hung over the world like a thick, wool blanket. The winter had been a cold and miserable one. The snow in this area was the ugly brown snow piled up on the streets corners where dogs peed and used cigarettes smoldered into a thin piece of paper. The air was especially something Yuri hated. It smelled too urban. He never liked the city.

The blonde moved hair out of his turquoise eyes. He had not gotten a haircut in forever, and Victor was beginning to make fun of him for looking like a girl. He saw the reflection of himself in the mirror. The permanent scowl on his face etched deep into the foggy glass overlooking the city. The backpack slung over his shoulder, he zipped up his hoodie, hiding the green blazer and matching tie that was his school uniform. Turning around, the lavender scent of Victor's shampoo made him cringe in disgust as a certain gray-haired coach strolled down the spiral silver stairs.

"Hello, again, Yurio. You do show up here a lot," Victor said with a smile.

"I live here, moron."

"That's no way to speak to your coach."

"At 5 P.M, you're my coach. Now, you're the step-father I never wanted."

Victor gasped. "You've promoted me to step-father status. Yuuri," Victor shouted up the stairs. "Our little boy has grown up."

"I'm not little, you loser," Yuri shouted. "Just because I'm shorter doesn't mean I'm smaller."

Victor paused. He took a sip from a pot of coffee brewing on the stainless steel black stove. His gurgling made Yuri wince.

Rolling his eyes, he strutted past Victor and turned off the stove. A slow stumbling rolled down the stairs as Yuuri adjusted his glasses. Wearing a large brown sweater, the slightly rotund man stumbled onto the floor and walked forward. Victor, always quick on his feet, poured a cup of coffee and thrust it at Yuuri.

Like a dying man, he put the blue mug to his mouth and sipped from it. Placing it on a wooden coaster on the marble counter, he sneezed.

"Good morning," he muttered.

"At least cover your mouth. You're going to get me sick," Yuri shouted.

"How did you sleep, my little pork cutlet?" Victor asked Yuuri.

The Japanese coach took another sip. "Fine, when you let me sleep."

Yuri groaned. "I knew you wer going to say that." He said. He turned around and ran towards the door.

"Going so soon?" Victor said to him.

The blonde skater turned around. "Away from you two. I can't stay in the same room for five minutes without you being annoying. Can you both shut up for once so I can have a decent day?"

Victor's mouth grew agape as he looked at the angry teenager. He turned to Yuuri whose eyes were half-lidded in mid-morning fugue. Seeing that he would recieve no help, Victor looked up at Yuri. He yanked the door open like a robber entering a safe ad tumbled out into the hall.

"Is that all it would take for you to be happy here," Victor said. "If we shut up?"

Yuri froze. He looked back at Victor and sneered at him. The sound of the antique cuckoo clock in the hallway ticking away the endless seconds as they stared at each other.

Yuri shook his head like he was swatting away a fly and slammed the door. The coffee in Yuuri's mug shook from the blast as the steam fogged up his glasses.

"You think he'll ever like being here?"

Victor shook his head. he put his arms around Yuuri's shoulders and snuggled his face into his. Yuuri let out a quick squeal as Victor nuzzled him.

"I don't know, Yuuri, but he will stand us eventually. He just doesn't know what it is like to find your soulmate."

Yuuri blushed. "Could you please save the mushy love talk until after I finish writing for today?"

Victor took his hand. He felt the small fingers interlace with his while noticing the bright glint emanating from his ring finger. The soft skin felt like smooth paper with every stroke of his thumb over the back of his warm hands. It was a moment like this that made the hours of Yuri's yelling and falling on the ice worth it.

"I wish it was just us, love, but we have an obligation. And don't act like you don't like Yuri, too. He makes things exciting around here. I just wished he realized how much we wanted him."

"Well, you did sort of leave him for me."

Victor closed his eyes. "I'm making up for it, though. Aren't I?"

Victor kept his head right next to Yuuri's as he finished his cup of ink-black coffee.

* * *

Yuri had to admit; the walk to his new school was decent.

The day was has a pleasant chill to it. The cool wind funneled through the large skyscrapers as he waited at the corner of Woodward and Congress. Two busy streets, buses and taxis rumbled past in a frenzy as the dead leaves in the gutters kicked up, twirled in the air, and floated down to the ground. It reminded Yuri of his routine, but he decided to not think about that. The passing of the cars made the edges of his soft hoodie flutter up in the wind. Shoving his hands in his pocket, he crossed the road and passed a panhandler.

The drumming was quick as the soft drizzle sprinkling the cracked sidewalk. Yuri sighed as he looked down at the drummer in pity. He always wanted to give the people on the street money, but he knew they were up to no good with it. After all, he was still unfamiliar with the entire country, let alone city. In Russia, if somebody saw what even appeared to be a wallet in your pocket, it was gone in the blink of an eye. He took no chances.

Walking down a few more blocks, he passed a big marble statue in the middle of the road. Some bronze soldiers were posed on the edges as the bished surrounding the memorial swayed with every passing car. It was a tribute of some sort, but Yuri did not care for history much.

Just as a black, blading businessman in a tuxedo ran past him like a sprinter on a track, Yuri felt a vibration in his skinny jeans pocket. Gasping, he whipped out the phone and looked down at the name.

Smirking, he put it up to his face. The cool metal rubbed on his ears.

"Otabek, did you forget about me?" Yuri said in his native Russian.

He heard a deep voice grunting over the phone. "Even if I had amnesia, I couldn't do that."

Yuri chuckled for the first time in a while. The rain tickled the top of his hoodie as he trotted forward. "You haven't even wished me luck for next month."

"I thought you didn't need luck. You said that to me before."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Whatever. What's going on over there?"

"Well, I called because my coach locked her keys in her car, and I thought you could help."

"Why the hell would I know that?"

"You're in Detroit, right? I'm sure you've learned some life lessons by now."

"Like breaking into cars?"

"So you've done that?"

Yuri chortled. "You're really hilarious, Beka."

"I wasn't joking."

Yuri stopped at another street corner. A diner was lit like a Christmas tree next to him. The smell of maple syrup mixing with strawberries emanated from the revolving doors of the restaurant. He heard newspapers being shuffled around like cards in a casino while people looked out and smiled at the cold, miserable beings outside.

"This city sucks, Beka. Everything about it. All of those documentaries were right."

"I was right."

"Don't have to rub it in," Yuri said as he looked at the red hand flashing on the street sign. Even though his English was not the best, Yuri knew that much.

"But you live in the good part."

Yuri growled. "There is no good part. It's either places with drug addicts and gangs or a bunch of stuffy businessmen who commute here from a better place."

"Better place. Canada?"

Maybe," Yuri said. The light flickered to green. Even though the pedestrian sign told him to wait, he jaywalked anyway. A car that was turning right honked at him. He flipped them off and hurried to the sidewalk.

"This place is miserable, Otabek. The weather is always bad. Half of the buildings outside of downtown are abandoned. One time, when Victor was driving us to go sightseeing, some wild dog came up to the other Yuuri and almost took his leg off. Then, some big thug with an eyepatch yelled at us for taking his dog."

"Sounds like Russia."

"Fuck you," Yuri said. "But it seriously does reminds me of Russia. I'm at school, though, so I have to go."

"Good luck with the lovebirds. See you at Skate America."

Yuri hung up without another word as he came up to the school. A bland box with large windows lining every room and classroom. The gate was open as students flowed through the entrance like a dam breaking in a raging river.

Yuri slumped slightly as he looked down at the ground.

"Damn it," he muttered to himself in Russian.

"Was that french?" A light voice said.

Yuri turned around and raised an eyebrow.

It was that girl from yesterday. The white blonde girl with deep blue eyes had slightly rosy cheeks from the chilled air swirling around them. She smiled softly as Yuri looked at her.

"uh..." Yuri stammered. "You...hey. You're..."

"Isabel."

"No. I mean, that's what you're name is, but I just wanted to say that you're standing in a puddle."

She looked down and jumped up in shock. Her white flats were soaked in the muddy water pooled underneath her feet. The wet fabric clung to her foot as she grimaced.

"Yuck. Now my feet are all wet. I can't believe this," she said with a giggle.

"You sound upset," Yuri said as he rolled his eyes.

The girl looked up and moved away from the puddle. She cleared her throat and moved towards Yuri. He backed away slightly, unsure of what this crazy girl was doing. She took a finger and swiped Yuri's face.

Yuri swatted the hand away. "Lady, what are you doing?"

The girl looked at him like he had nine heads. "You had a leaf on your cheek."

Yuri felt his cold skin and brushed upon the remnants of a dead leaf. he brushed it away and saw the pieces flutter to the ground. "Thanks, lady," he said before turning around and heading towards the metal detectors.

"Wait a second."

Yuri sighed and turned around. "What do you want?"

"Why are you so rude to everyone?"

Yuri scoffed. He crossed his arms and took the hoodie off his head. "I'm not rude. i just keep to myself. Something you Americans are not good at."

The girl frowned. "I'm just being honest. Nobody is going to like you in life if your like this."

"Do you know who I am?"

"You're name is Yuri."

"But like...what do I do?"

"Like a job? I don't know."

Yuri felt his eye twitch. "Wait a second. You don't know what I do?"

She shrugged. "I heard you were a foreign exchange student from Russia. I don't know what you KGB spies do."

Yuri rubbed his forehead. He felt the strange rumblings of a headache coming on. "Never mind. I'm going to class."

"But what do you do?"

"I skate, woman," Yuri yelled in frustration.

She gasped. "You're on a hockey team?"

Yuri stared at her in shock. "Do I look like I could be on a hockey team, lady? I figure skate."

She hopped up in excitement. "No way. Really? I do, too. Although, not well. I always fall down. Then again, you can do anything, even if it isn't well. I can sing, but I can't sing well. Know what I mean?"

Yuri seethed at the weird girl. "I figure skate for a living. I am a professional. I have world records. Ugh. This is going nowhere. I'm leaving."

Just as Yuri turned around, she grabbed his arm softly. "Can I see you at lunch?"

Yuri's mouth dropped open larger than the front doors of the school. "Why?"

Yuri noticed that the girl stood at eye level to him. "I need you to try something for me. I need a test subject. Can you do that? If you do, I'll leave you alone."

Yuri glared at her. She seemed slightly nervous, but there was a radiation of joy from life that she had warming up her entire being. Yuri had no idea what to think. The girl was supposed to be another passerby that he said a few words to and never saw again. For some reason, he grew a little nervous himself. Who was she? And why did he suddenly want to say yes to her crazy idea. Were all Americans like this? What if she was in one of those gangs he heard about. She did not seem like it, but if there was one thing he learned in his life, looks were very deceptive, even if they were right most of the time.

Great, now he was not making any sense, just like the girl.

he would be kicking himself mentally as he trudge down the hallway at noon to meet up with her. Isabel was her name, he remembered.

* * *

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	3. Shopping

Victor loved shopping after Yuri's practices.

When the angry blonde kid teen was done sashaying around the slick ice, Victor threw him and his fiance inside the rented Ford Taurus that shined blue like the frigid waves of Lake St. Claire massaging the Riverwalk. The small sedan slid along the damp streets as Victor jerked the car forward and feathered the gas pedal with his white sneakers. Yuuri clutched his chest and yelped with every twist and turn Victor made down the narrow road. His throat clenched in anxiety while clinging onto the cool leather of the car seat like a drowning swimmer on a liferaft.

"Slow down." Yuuri shouted. "Please, Victor. I don't want to die."

"Go faster, Victor," Yuri said with his arms crossed in the backseat. "I wouldn't mind dying today."

Victor slammed on the breaks.

The loss in momentum lurched Yuuri forward. He hit his head on the dashboard and groaned in pain.

"Oh, God, my head. Why?" he cried.

Victor looked behind him while the tires screeched on the pavement. The sedan snaked backwards and slid into place between two limousines in front of the tall brick building. The car rocked as it froze in place.

Yuuri whimpered while he was hunched over in pain. Victor patted him on the head.

"It's okay, Yuuri," the gray haired Russian said with a smile. He opened the tiny glove compartment in front of Yuuri and took out a large red box. "I brought the ice pack with me this time."

Yuri rolled his eyes and kicked open the door. He climbed outside and looked up at the large department store. Thrusting his hands in his hoodie pocket, he frowned while footsteps stomped behind him. Victor tapped him on his narrow shoulder and shoved him forward.

"Time to go shopping," Victor said cheerfully.

"Don't buy anything expensive," Yuuri said as he stumbled behind Victor.

Yuri rolled his eyes as he followed them like a dog owner keeping his beagles from running astray. Spinning through the obsidian revolving doors, the tungsten lighting bore an orange tint on the perfume section sitting by the front entrance. Gold and silver bottles twinkled like stars on the mirror counters. Victor laughed as he ran towards the cologne and sprayed an orange capsule in the air.

"I need a new cologne for Skate America. People are going to think I'm losing my image. What do you think, Yurio? Strawberry cologne?"

Yuri coughed as Victor wafted the strong fumes towards him. "That's disgusting. Fruity cologne is gross."

Victor looked over at Yuuri, who held an ice pack to his forehead. "Strawberry or peach?"

Yuuri looked over to the two and stammered. "Just whatever you want, Victor. You'll smell good either way."

"The only person I aim to please is you, Yuuri. What's good for you is the same for me."

As the two smiled at each other, Yuri gagged and pivoted away from them. He started to walk past the cologne stands and into the suit area.

Victor took Yuri's sleeve and pulled him back. "Where are you going, Yurio? You know you need adult supervision."

"Shut up," Yuri said while looking forward. "I need a suit for the press conference in a few weeks. The one Yuuri scheduled."

Victor blinked. "I didn't know you had to schedule press conferences."

Yuri sighed. "That explains why he does all the schedule stuff. Stick to skating, old man."

Victor let him go. Yuri slogged through the store and found the formal wear section.

Yuri was not a fan of dressing up for any occasion. However, he knew impressions were important. It's not like people were fans of his due to his charismatic personality.

A fan rumbled above him during his search. Some english song hummed through the speakers in the ceiling, obscuring the ringing phones and idle chatter of other shoppers. Yuri felt the soft polyester of a pinstripe black suit run through his hands. The clothing had slightly padded shoulders with a slim cut around the waist. Pulling it off the rack, Yuri rubbed his thumb on the black lapels. They were sharp and ran long down the jacket. A light blue bow-tie could really set the suit off for the press.

"Someone is going to think your shoplifting."

Yuri tensed up and clenched a fist. He already knew who it was behind him. Turning around, it was the blonde girl wearing her tight, dark green school uniform. Her eternal smile shone in the bright store. Practically bouncing on her tiptoes, she took a step towards Yuri as if she were a doctor examining a patient.

He took a step back and held the suit in his hands. "We had a deal."

She nodded. "We did. If you tried the food I made, I'd leave you alone at school."

"And we're not in school," Yuri finished with frustration. "Contract reading is not something I'm good at."

She laughed. "You're funny."

"I wasn't joking. If I read contracts, I wouldn't be stuck here."

"Living with those two guys or in Detroit?"

Yuri took off his hoodie and brushed back his now exposed blonde hair. It was mussed up as he ran a hand through the soft follicles. "Both. How did you know about Victor and Yuuri?" He snapped.

She brushed the strands of her hair from her eyes. "They got out of the car with you. I was walking in to get some white wine in the kitchen section. I even said hello to you, and you ignored me."

Yuri shook his head. "I didn't ignore you. I just didn't hear you."

"Liar."

"Believe me, if I was ignoring you, you would know it."

She snatched the suit from Yuri's hands, causing him to gasp in shock. He tried to grab for it, but she put the suit up to Yuri's chest and examined it.

"I think this will be a little big on you. Although you don't seem like a suit guy to begin with."

Yuri frowned. "It's for a press conference."

"So you are a big deal."

Yuri fumed at the silly girl. He felt himself shake slightly in frustration like a burning building and clenched another fist. "Yes, I am a big deal. I'm going to be an even bigger deal soon."

She kept looking at the suit. "It looks good on you, though."

"I'm going to win Skate America and then the Grand Prix finals."

"Maybe a smaller size. The padding on the shoulders looks fake. Like your compensating for something.

"I'm going to win and never deal with Victor again."

"I think a bowtie would look good. Maybe blue."

Yuri froze. "That's what I was thinking."

She looked back up at him and smiled. "Good. Bowtie it is. I don't have the best fashion sense, so ask someone else along the way. Why do you care about it?"

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Care about what?"

"Image."

Yuri looked down at his thin wrists. "Image is everything. You have to look good in this sport," he said. He took the suit from her and wrapped it around his arms. He glimpsed at her while rubbing the fabric like it was a genie lamp. "Grandpa always told me to dress well. That way, you feel like you're ready to take on anything. And it sucks, but you get treated better by people, too. If you just look like you came off the street, nobody will care about you."

"But you always look like you come off the street."

Yuri glared at her. "No offense," she said. "Nobody can see your face with that hoodie on all the time."

"I don't want to be noticed for things I'm not noticed for. I skate, and I want to be known for that. So if people are going to see me, I want it during skating. I don't care about the rest."

Yuri seemed placid, almost sad with the low tone he used. He leaned on the clothes rack behind him and looked down at his feet. "People are very simple, when you think about it. They just do what they were put on Earth for, and that's it. I'm here to skate. I'm not here to cure cancer. I'm not here to get married like those two idiots I live with. I definitely am not here to go to school and hear english lessons about that girl with that magazine job."

"The Bell Jar? The book we read for class?"

Yuri nodded. He stood up straight as an arrow and looked at the girl's shoulder. "It's not like it matters to you. I don't know why I'm saying this."

"It's no big deal," she said. "Maybe you could just do something that spices up your day once in a while."

"Skating spices up my day."

"Besides that," she said. Looking over to the kitchen section, she pointed to the refrigerators. "I have to get wine. Wanna come?"

"Not really."

She giggled. "Guess I'll see you in class, Yurio."

Yuri's eyes shot wide open and he glared at her. "What did you just call me?"

She turned around and waved, a smile growing on her face like the snow accumulating outside. "Nothing. Bye."

With a wink, she left.

Yuri sighed and looked back down at the dress. He was upset at himself for opening up to that girl. She was just a complete stranger, and he was speaking to her like they knew each other. Sure, the food she had given her was great, and she was undeniably attractive. However, all of that was destroyed every time she opened her mouth. Now, she was calling him by that dreaded name. It mad his skin crawl like a thousand worms were slogging through it. He needed to guard himself better. The last thing he needed was to spill his guts to somebody that may "leak" something out to the press.

"Yurio! How's my little Casanova doing?"

Too late.

Yuri looked over at the taller man. Victor had a deep, mischievous grin as he slapped a hand on his shoulder. "Hitting on your fans? Need to do better than that. I can teach you a thing or two."

Yuri batted away Victor's warm hand and smoothed out the front of his Team Russia hoodie. "Shut up. I was just talking to someone from class."

Victor clutched his chest and gasped. "A school romance. This is just like in those Japanese comics Yuuri reads when I'm not around. Momgo, it's called. Or is it manga?"

Yuri marched past Victor. "She's just a girl. Leave me alone."

"Not just a girl," Victor said. "The first person you've actually spoken to in America. It only took you six months. Yuuri didn't even speak to our neighbors for a month. He's way too shy for his own good. You have to get her number, though. She is really cute. If I was ten years younger and swung in that direction, I would do all I could to win her over. It could be good for your routine."

Yuri jabbed a finger at Victor's taut chest. Digging into Victor's red polo shirt, he growled. "Listen up, and listen good. This girl means nothing to me. I don't even remember her name. She is someone from class, and that's it. All I'm doing in this hellhole you call home is win. All I need you to do is coach me in skating. Not in life."

Victor smirked. 'Whatever you say. For a girl that you just met, you were quite open with her. You never talk about your grandfather around me."

Yuri was completely shellshocked. First, he gets roped into this random girl from school, and his coach was spying on him. What made Yuri felt worse was that he heard about his grandfather. It was almost like a deep piece buried inside him was released in the most meaningless fashion. These emotions were supposed to be bottled up and released on the ice like fireflies escaping a jar. Instead, he was shouting them out in a stuffy department store.

Yuri let his arm go limp. Shaking his head, he dragged himself towards the cash registers. "Forget it. I'm buying this. Bring your credit card so we can pay."

Victor skipped behind him. "Yuuri is already at the car."

"Don't care."

Victor chuckled. "By the way, blue bowtie would look horrific. Try the crimson one. It's only a hundred dollars more."

* * *

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	4. Regrouping

Yuuri licked the metallic spoon clean of the remaining wisps of vanilla ice cream. he had grown to love American ice cream. the yogurt that other countries was not even close to the rich pillows of sugar and milk that melted in his mouth. Sure, it was more calories than he needed, but he was not worried as much about his weight being retired. He sat on a bench in front of the Detroit River, he looked out at a red ferry chugging through the choppy waves. The wind was calmer than it was yesterday, and the sun was high up in the baby blue sky.

Victor plunked himself next to Yuuri and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. These were always the most comforting moments for Yuuri. They were sheltered by the seawall from the frigid waters and the trees hovered behind them like giant castle walls blocking the breeze. The stress from the apartment or the ice rink evaporated into the thick air.

When Yuri was at school, the young couple went sightseeing. They had only been there about a year before Yuri showed up, so the city was still new to them.

Victor's soft breathing warmed Yuuri's neck. He looked down at the straight grey hair scratching his shaven chin. Victor had his eyes closed.

"Are we going to NHK this year?" Victor asked, his eyes still closed.

Yuuri paused. "Yes. The assignments have been on the fridge for the past month."

"Sometimes I forget," Victor said.

Yuuri looked up at the sky. He still felt awkward talking to Victor when it was just the two of them. He was jealous of Victor. He always seemed so relaxed around anybody. For Yuuri, he was never relaxed.

"Do you feel tense, Yuuri?"

Victor shifted himself to sit up straight next to Yuuri and wrapped his arm tighter around him. In his big yellow jacket, Yuuri was bundled up like a hot dog. Victor wore a tight white jacket with a red sweater on top of black pleather pants. He always cared more about his appearance than Yuuri.

Yuuri sighed. "It's normal."

"What are you nervous about? Maybe I can help."

Yuuri rubbed his forehead. He adjusted his thin-rimmed glasses and licked his chapped lips. "I...I guess I'm..."

"It's Yurio, isn't it?"

Yuuri ran a hand through his thick black hair. "Part of it. It's just so weird. I was against him two years ago, and now I'm supposed to get him through the Grand Prix. Not only that, but he hates me."

Victor chuckled. "Yurio doesn't hate anybody. He just shows affection in a different way."

"He calls us names."

"I call you names."

Yuuri felt blood rush to his cheeks. "You know what I mean. Ever since we got him to come from Russia, he's been bitter with everyone. He doesn't want to eat. He doesn't want to talk. He doesn't want to be in the same room as us. He's doing bad in school, and he barely posts on Twitter or Instagram. His fans think he's dead."

Yuuri hid his face in his hands as he hunched over. "I feel like we're raising a kid, Victor. If we suck this badly now, what happens if we..."

Victor rubbed his hand in a circle on Yuuri's back. "If we what? Adopt?"

Yuuri nodded.

"Yuuri, we're a long way from that. We haven't even gotten citizenship here. Besides," Victor said as he leaned in with a smirk. "Yurio isn't really a kid. He'll be an adult in a year, won't he?"

"In a way he is," Yuuri said in a muffled voice.

Victor kept massaging Yuuri's back. It was very calming to him. "Yurio is annoying, but he is a good person. He's an amazing skater, and we can make something really special if we stick with him this time. I don't know how to make him happier, but do you think you can live through it till the end of the Grand Prix?"

Yuuri turned towards Victor, his eyes slightly reddened from saline. "I just want us to be happy, Victor. I don't want you to become unhappy because of me or Yurio or any-."

"Don't ever say that again."

Yuuri was taken aback as Victor grabbed his chin and pulled him closer to his face. "You never say that shit again, Yuuri. You hear me?"

Yuuri winced at the sound of Victor's pleasant lips cursing. "Victor?"

Victor shook him slightly. "Don't you know how long I had wanted you before I first spoke to you? Do you remember that? When we first met?"

"I thought I already said I di-."

"Do you know how long I sat up at night," Victor continued in a rushed voice. "Just thinking about ways I could get you in my life? I couldn't sleep for months because I wanted everything to be perfect for you. Even if I had to drain out every penny or every ounce of energy I had, I did it and I'll keep doing it for as long as I live. I don't just disappear on people, Yuuri. Someway or another, I come back and make things right. You are the thing I live for. Not skating, not medals, not winning. You."

Victor let go of Yuuri and sat upright next to him on the bench. Yuuri looked down at his feet and felt a tear threatening to leak out of his eyes. Yuuri had felt so unconfident in himself that he never fathomed that a person would work to be with him, let alone try to get married to him. He never thought he was worth that trouble, but Victor seemed headstrong in his ways.

A lightbulb popped up in his head.

"Is that why you wanted to coach Yurio? Because you left him the first time?"

Victor looked over at Yuuri with a watery smile. "I think so," he said with a chuckle. "Actually, he does sort of feel like a son by now. You nagging him about homework. Me driving him everywhere. He's the rebellious teenager."

"At least we have practice for when the real thing happens," Yuuri said.

Victor chuckled and rested his head on Yuuri's shoulder. "I think our little Russian Punk is turning around. That girl he was with asked me a few things about him. She seems interested. But a real interested, you know? It's not just about looks."

Yuuri blinked. "Who is that girl?"

Victor shrugged. "Just a girl at school. She doesn't really know much about the skating world, so I had to inform her of Yurio's infamy. She took it well. Maybe a relationship would be good for Yurio. there's a lot of things in his head that we don't know about. His previous coaches told me the same story."

"Absent parents. No money. Raised by grandfather?"

Victor sighed in content. "He works hard at practice. Maybe he could stand to be a normal kid for once. Remember when you were a teenager?"

"I got sick all the time."

"Bad example," Victor said. "It's a shame. If he was nicer, Yurio could have the world in his hands."

The couple sat on the bench the rest of the time before school ended. The cold air kept Yuuri's ice cream intact for the ants to scramble on as it rested by his feet, forgotten for the time being.

* * *

Yuri left school as he normally did. He shoved most of his textbooks in his locker and zipped up his hoodie. Passing the metal detectors in front of the school, he sauntered out of the gates and onto the street. He noticed a group of people whispering and looking in his direction, but he said nothing. He was attracting a lot of attention during his time at school. Some girls tried to talk to him at the beginning, but the cold shoulder and a quick glare scared most of them away. He walked in the hallway alone. He ate his small bento box of katsudon Yuuri made in the dark corner of the cafeteria with white stones jetting out from the sides. When the teacher called on him, he just said he did not know the answer to whatever the question was at the time.

He hated the whole school. The saving grace was that ice skating was not very popular at this school or in Detroit for that matter. Most teenagers did not know about him or Victor or even the other skaters in the circuit.

"Hey, you."

Yuri huffed with frustration before turning around. It was the peppy and slightly crazy blonde again. She bounded over to him and stood at the same height as Yuri. That was another annoying thing about America. Many women were taller than him.

"Listen, Isadora, I do-."

"Isabel."

"Don't care," Yuri snapped. "I don't know who you are, but why are you following me around?"

"I'm not following you around. you just happen to be in places that I go."

"The mall?"

"I had to get wine."

"You're not twenty-one."

"Not according to my fake ID."

Yuri scoffed. "You're crazy, woman. What I'm trying to say is that if you're hitting on me, you're doing a bad job at it. I'm not intere-."

"I'm not hitting on you. I just want to know more about you."

Yuri felt his eye twitch. "Maybe I don't want you to know more about me," he seethed.

Isabel clasped her hands together in front of her. "If it makes you feel better, I am following you this time."

"And why is that?"

"You're taking me to your apartment."

Yuri barked out a laugh. This girl was mental if she thought he was taking her home. Who did she think she was messing with the Russian Tiger? Isabel blushed slightly as Yuri crossed his arms. A group of kids were watching passively on the other side of the school front gate.

"Is that Isabel? Isabel from Eight Mile?"

"Why is she talking to that guy? He's bad news."

"She from Eight Mile. Duh!

"Do they know each other? Isabel and Yuri Plisetsky? The skater guy?"

"Yuri is insanely hot. How the hell is she so lucky?"

Yuri felt his blood boil to the point of evaporation inside his bones as the students began chatting away and texting on their smartphones. The last thing he needed before Skate America were rumors to dog him throughout the competition. No doubt J.J. and Otabek would give him grief when he saw them again if they learned about him being involved with a random girl.

"Why do you I'm taking you home?" Yuri spouted out in a hushed tone.

Isabel adjusted her hair. "That guy you live with? Victor? He said he's your coach, and it's normal for you two to live together since you do competitions and what not. I asked if he could get cooking wine for me because I thought I lost my fake ID. He said he had some at home and said I could come over tonight. After he left, I found my fake ID. I thought it would be rude to blow you all off, though."

"No, please," Yuri said. "Blow us off."

She giggled. "But I don't have Victor's number, and he really wanted me to come for some reason. I could see it in his eyes."

"You're not taking no for an answer, are you?"

Isabel shook her head.

Yuri pinched the bridge of his nose. Throwing his hands up, he shouted. "You know what? Let's just go. I'm sure Victor will have plenty to say. Follow me, but no talking. I don't talk when I'm out on the streets."

The girl practically skipped next to him as they began to walk away from the school. The gaggle of students hummed in surprise as they travelled to Yuri's apartment. Dinner was going to be fun for sure.

* * *

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	5. Dinner Dates?

The square glass dining table was perfect for four people. The shining surface fogged up with the warmth of the large bowl of katsudon placed in the middle. Glasses of water rested on wooden coasters as the fragrance of honey and miso soup which lay next to the bowl. A small vase with a wilting red rose leaned precariously on the edge of the table, as if a breeze would blow it off any second. The tiny diamond chandelier hung over the table and lit the room. A few feet behind the table was the marble counter sittign between the living room and the kitchen.

Yuuri adjusted his plain red apron and sat down. Victor scooted his chair forward and sat across from him. Holding the chopsticks in his dainty hands, he flicked the tubes of wood around in a circle in midair.

Yuri rested his head on one hand and sighed loudly. Across from him was a certain blonde thorn in his side. She grinned at the pile of pork and rice. Sniffing loudly, she let out a quick whoop. The honey and pork aroma swirled around the table as the steam floated up towards the ceiling.

"This smells amazing, Mr. Katsuki," Isabel said. "What is it called?"

Yuuri rubbed his sharp jaw and blushed. "Thank you. Nobody has said that about the katsudon yet. Other than Victor."

"I love your katsudon, Yuuri. It's like you in food form," Victor said with a small smile.

Yuuri blushed. "Thanks, I guess."

Yuri Plisetsky rolled his eyes and reached for a small bowl of miso soup. He dunked a wooden spoon into the warm, thin liquid. He stuffed it into his mouth, biting down on the spoon with his teeth before raking the soup in. The soup was thin and flavorless as usual. It was auburn dishwater.

As Isabel and Victor pilled the food onto their plate, the blonde girl looked over at Yuri. "Don't you want some?"

Yuri looked at her like she was a zombie. "I'm fine without eating diabetes on a plate today. Thank you."

Victor licked his lips. "It was just a question, Yurio. You should be glad people outside of this apartment care about your mental health."

Yuri glared at his coach. Shaking his head, he looked back down at his bowl and kept splashing his wooden spoon into the soup. He hated speaking at the dinner table. It was the most stressful part of the day for him. The moment somebody opened their mouths, he clenched up like a scared cat. Victor practically interrogated him like a criminal to find out what happened to him during the day. Then, he flirted with Yuuri some more. The whole scene was really gross.

As Isabel fumbled with her chopsticks, Victor looked up from his plate.

"I'm sorry, Isabel," Victor said.

Yuri stiffened.

"We barely know anything about you," he said with a smile. "You're a classmate of Yurio's?"

Isabel swallowed the large piece of pork and laid down her fork. "For the past few months. We have English and U.S History together. Yuri doesn't say much, though."

"How nice of you," Yuri said with an eye roll. "There's not much I can add to a debate on gerunds. It's boring."

Victor swallowed another few grains of rice before leaning forward. He looked Isabel right in the eye. "Excuse him, Yuri is not very good with humans yet. Where are you from?"

Isabel blew a strand of hair from her eyesight. "Born and raised in Detroit."

"Really? Where do you live?"

Yuri sighed. Victor was being increasingly creepy with his interrogations. When you get beyond the looks, Victor was basically the handsome serial killer in those russian spy movies he watched at midnight with Yuuri.

"In Detroit? I live in Eight Mile."

"Where is that?"

Isabel gasped. "I'm sorry. I just remembered you're still new here."

Victor winked at her. "I find my way around very quickly, miss. Where is it you live, though."

Isabel slurped a sip of water and set down the wine glass. "It's north of here about five or six miles. You know Shaw Park?"

"No."

"I'm across the street from it. Me and my dad live in an apartment. Not as nice as this one, but it's an apartment we've been in for a while."

"So does your dad drive you to school?"

Isabel laughed. "He doesn't have time for that. I just take the bus. He wakes up early to work at a garage."

Yuri shivered. He could not imagine working in a place with so much oil and grease. Yuri could not even sleep if he felt like a speck of dirt was on him, and this girl's father was an auto mechanic. He felt slightly unclean just being by her. Yuri rubbed his arms with a napkin.

"We drove by there a few times," Yuuri piped in. "Where you live."

Isabel froze. Yuri swore that her face paled slightly from its natural tan. She put down a chopstick and laughed nervously. "Really?"

"That area? Shaw Park? I remember that. I-I don't want to be rude, bu-."

"Then don't say anything," Yuri said. The rest of the table turned to him as he frowned at his soup. "If you don't want to be rude, then don't say what you were going to say."

Isabel stammered. "No, it's perfectly fine, Yuri. It's no big deal."

Victor whistled. "Long day, I will say that," he said as he tried to move the subject somewhere else. "Anybody want dessert? We have ice cream."

Yuri ignored Victor. "If Porky wants to say something rude, then you have the right to tell him no."

Yuuri coughed. "I wasn't going to say anything bad. I just wanted to clarify where she lives."

"She lives in a ghetto. We get it."

Yuuri gasped. He looked around at the table and covered his mouth in shock. "I wasn't going to say that. I..."

The table grew silent. Victor looked over at his fiancee with pity at his awkwardness. The cuckoo clock down the hall ticked as the wind outside battered the large bay windows overlooking downtown. Yuri furrowed his thin eyebrows at Yuuri as he looked down at his plate. The Japanese man felt a bead of sweat swimming down his face while he rubbed his thumbs together.

A few more seconds of silence crawled by like the caterpillar on the balcony railing outside.

"Do you know what Motown is?"

Isabel looked over at Yuri. He had his arms crossed while looking her right in the eye.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Like the music?"

Yuri shrugged. "I don't know. I just saw an ad for a museum about it. Is it american music?"

Isabel grinned. "Only the best American music out there. It's kind of a genre, but it was an old record label. You know, those places where singers could release music."

Yuri slouched in his chair. "I don't really like American music. I'm a classical guy."

"Classic rock."

Yuri grimaced. "I meant classical music. Bach, Vivaldi, Rossini."

Victor tapped his fingers on the table. "Rossini was more opera, wasn't he?"

"Just so uncultured," Yuri said a stuck up tone. "Rossini basically invented the ostinato. Every wannabe composer today uses it. Hell, every songwriter practically uses it."

Yuuri broke out of his reverie and tilted his head. "Victor is right. Rossini was too late to be classical."

Yuri scoffed. "So now you decide to grow a backbone. You're both wrong. As usual."

Victor laughed. "That's the funniest thing you've said all day."

"Who is Rossini?"

The men's heads slowly rotated towards Isabel. Yuuri had a look of shock on his face. Yuri sat confused as he examined the young girl. Victor shook his head and ticked.

"Who is Rossini?" Yuri repeated. "Only the best musician in the twentieth century."

"I take it back. That is the funniest thing you've said all day," Victor said.

Isabel let out a deep sigh of relief. She had not breathed for a few seconds as the tension left the room like a deflating balloon. The table became lively as Yuri argued with the couple about classical music. Once in a while, Isabel chimed in with Victor shaking his head like a disappointed parent and Yuri looking stunned that somebody would not know about his music. After thirty minutes, the katsudon was completely gone, and Yuuri clutched his stomach.

"I think I ate too much again," Yuuri said. He got up and ran towards the bathroom.

Yuri rolled his eyes and stood up. Pushing the seat underneath the glass table, he adjusted his white hoodie. "You're boyfriend is an embarrassment."

Victor sighed with a dreamy look in his eye. "And I wouldn't want him any other way."

Yuri looked over at Isabel. She smiled at him as her blue eyes practically sparkled underneath the diamond chandelier swinging from the ceiling. Her cheeks hued to a rose tint. Running a hand through her soft hair, they stared at each other for a second.

Yuri wore a confused expression. "What?"

Isabel stood up and smoothed out her olive green uniform. "Uh...nothing! I just wanted to say thanks. The katsudon was incredible. The rice was perfectly cooked and the pork was just rare enough to bring out the flavoring of the meat. The soy sauce also set off the spice of the dijon mustard, too."

"I have no idea what any of that means."

Victor slung an arm around Isabel like a drunk sailer and chuckled. "No big deal. Yuri loves having people over. In fact, why don't you go and see Yuri's room? I have to go up to my closet to get that bottle of white wine."

"You keep wine in your closet?" Yuri asked.

"No better place," Victor said. He squeezed Isabel and let go of her. He hustled up the spiral stairs, almost stumbling a few times.

Yuri looked over at his classmate. He was going to kill Victor later. He knew what he was trying to do with him. These three were messing up his entire routine.

Sleep. School. Skate. Sleep.

Yuri headed down the hallway and opened the grey wooden door. Yuri's room was simple. The plain light mocha walls surrounding his twin bed. A mahogany desk sat next to the bed with a simple electric alarm clock on top. A small cactus laid on its side in the corner; its roots buried in black dirt inside a white pot. An air freshener pumped out a faint cherry fragrance that matched the red comforter over the bed. A closed white duffel bag hid underneath the bed. Yuri kicked it before leaping onto the bed. The frame rocked like a swaying bridge as he fell on the hard mattress.

He laid on his stomach like a sleeping cat and propped his head on his arms. His chest tightened as he closed his eyes.

Skating was the only important thing to him. He repeated thi sline of thinking, but a voice in his head said otherwise. It felt as if there was a bruise around his heart, and the organ kept pounding into it. His routine was going nowhere. Victor and Yuuri thought it looked good, but there was no emotion in his skating. He was a corpse reanimated like a puppet on a string at the ice rink. Even his jumps were not nearly as explosive as two years ago. Physically, he was fine and fitter than ever despite Yuuri's diet of ice cream and katsudon. School was torture listening to his teacher drone on about the United States constitution while feeling every eye in the room peering at him. Life in this apartment was even worse.

Yuri was not happy anymore. Even on the ice, he felt miserable.

"Maybe you should talk about things if you need to."

Yuri opened one eye and shifted his head to look at Isabel. She walked towards the blue body ball in the corner by the closet. She rolled it over and bounced on it for a few seconds before stopping at Yuri's bedside.

"You don't like those two, do you?" Isabel asked.

Yuri scoffed. "Don't like them? I don't like having to go through metal detectors at school everyday. I resent them," he said. He turned over and laid on his side to face Isabel. "It's exhausting to have to deal with them everyday. Whenever Porky has to go somewhere, he always says 'Goodbye, everyone. I'm leaving. I'm going to the store, but I'll be back. I'm taking a shower. Tell me if you need anything.' I don't care where you go, you idiot," Yuri said in a rushed voice.

"Maybe he wants t-."

"Then," Yuri interrupted. "I have Victor watching horror movies at midnight and screwing his boyfriend again and again and it keeps me awake. They always wake me up on weekends even if I want to sleep in. They throw out my salad and play fucking electronica music in the kitchen watch the shittiest stuff on tv. I don't learn English from school," Yuri pointed at himself. "I learned it from tv, so if I can't watch it, I can't get better. Then, they complain at me about things that go wrong. A plant dies? My fault for not watering it. Something gets lost? I stole it. No hot water? I used it all up."

"So you have hot water then?"

Yuri stopped. He and Isabel shared a glance at each other. She sat through his tirade looking at him and patiently sitting by him. Yuri rememebred the awkward moment involving Yuuri at dinner. He assumed that, based off where Isabel lived, she was not very well off. Yuri rarely felt guilt for anything given or earn by him. After all, the money from sponsorships was his from blood and sweat. It is not like he flaunted it in people's faces by buying meaningless things like Victor.

Yuri bit his lip. It was a nervous tic of his.

"When I was little, I lived in Moscow," Yuri said. He looked down at a piece of fabric sticking out of the crimson comforter in front of his face. "It was a rough area in Moscow. My mom bounced around from job to job. She just did whatever she could get, even some things that weren't all that honest."

"Drugs?"

Yuri looked up at Isabel. She wore a small frown while she leaned forward with her hands folded in her lap.

"Probably. But she never did any. She didn't disappear for days at a time like those people do. There were months were we basically had to decide whether we were going to spend on extra groceries or things like heating and water. Eventually, my grandfather came in."

Yuri sat up and crossed his legs. Isabel was taken aback with Yuri perking up in his position.

Yuri smiled. "That day was crazy. My mom felt like she failed by having to give me to him for a few months, but he told her everything would be okay. He was a better off in the suburbs, but not by much. He took me to the ice rink one day in downtown, and I was hooked. It felt like I was swimming in air, and I saw other people. People older than me were falling like Victor after a shot of bourbon. I was better at this than people thirty years older than me. You can't get that feeling from a lot of other things. I stuck with it, and I just feel something out there. I don't know if I feel good or bad skating, but I feel it and it's something I need to have. Grandpa saw this and he did everything he could. He paid for practices and everything."

"You must love your grandpa," Isabel said. You're actually smiling for once."

Yuri chuckled. "He actually appreciates me and what I do. Even when I perform well, Victor is only happy because it's making him money. My other coaches in the past were the same way. No, Grandpa is happy for me. Because of me."

"For you because of you?"

Yuri sighed. "I know this is really weird to you since you don't know that much about skating, but pro careers don't last that long. Victor and Yuuri are both around thirty, and they're retired. I'm in my prime now. If I don't perform..."

Yuri swallowed hard. They both sat in silence for a few minutes. Isabel had her eyes locked on Yuri while he stared at his bed. The atmosphere was warmer in the room than it was before. Yuri almost felt at ease just being in a room with another person that wasn't Victor or Yuuri. He was close to feeling like a normal human being.

"Who are you?" Yuri asked. He looked up at Isabel. "Why am I telling you all of this? You're just some random girl, and now you're in my bedroom."

Isabel blushed and looked away from Yuri's eyes slightly. "Y-you don't have to put it that way. I mean...unless that's something you're thinking about doi-."

Yuri jumped back slightly, realizing what he said. "No! Nothing like that. I'm just saying I don't know you really at all. It's annoying how out-of-nowhere this is."

Isabel let out a deep breath. "Maybe you just needed to get things off your chest."

Yuri nodded. "Maybe. It's not like Victor will listen. To hear him, I'm nothing but sunshine and rainbows every day," he said. He scooted closer to the edge of the bed. "Thanks, but don't expect me to spill my guts much more. I sound like a fucking teenage girl."

Isabel smiled and gave him a wink. "I'm sure at some point you'll spill you rdirty secrets again. You're a teenage boy, after all. It's in your blood to be all angsty."

Yuri hissed. "Go to hell."

Something seemed a little different with Yuri's tone to Isabel. His insult seemed less genuine. Almost playful.

* * *

 **Thank you so much yet again for staying with me.**

 **Please review. The longer the review, the better this story can be! Thank you so much for reading. You are the reason people write, and we just want to entertain you, so I hope I can make something unique and fun for everyone.**

 **See you soon!**


	6. Class Break

The next few weeks flew by like the orange-bellied robins gliding south for the winter. Yuri felt a small weight flutter off his slim shoulders as the days grew shorter. As the Skate America skating competition drew nearer, he noticed his stress alleviated sooner. Victor was less annoying, only talking to him about his routine. Yuuri stayed out of his way and made sure all of the laundry in the apartment was done. Beyond that, he watched American television and continued to gain weight from his incessant ice cream binging.

Even school was becoming more tolerable.

One foggy day, Yuri took his seat in the rigid wooden chair by the window. Overlooking the quiet street below, a few cars crawled through the low clouds traveling through office buildings towered over the school like guardians from the harsh wind blowing from the riverfront.

Thrusting his white Team Russia hoodie over his head, he crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. The classroom was different from the ones in Russia. The walls were a coconut brown with a whiteboard behind a wooden podium. An electric smartboard covered part of the whiteboard. A flat-screen television hung in the corner and faced the students like a spy camera watching over them. White wooden rectangle desks sat in rows of seven while the teacher sat at a large, cocobolo desk that shimmered underneath the fluorescent lighting in the ceiling.

Staring at his faint reflection in the window, he noticed that his hair was getting a little longer than he liked. However, he was a little disappointed in himself. He looked roughly the same as he did two years ago. His face was still slim with high cheekbones. Not a dot of facial hair existed. He hoped that he would look older, but that same fifteen year old Russian punk stared back at him with apathy.

Sighing, Yuri slunked a little further into his seat. The competition for Skate America was pretty weak. No J.J. No Otabek. No Christophe. Only Yuuri's friend Phichit was going to perform, and he was a total lightweight to Yuri. It was going to be a boring affair, and Yuri just wanted it to be over.

"Hey, Yuri."

Yuri perked up in his chair and looked towards the classroom. Isabel waved at him quickly. Her hair was slightly different today as it was in a pixie cut split towards the right side of her face. The slim girl sat down in front of him and crossed her legs.

"Hey," Yuri said as glanced at her for a second.

Other classmates began to whisper to each other. A few circles of people around the room murmured in surprise.

"He actually said something to her. And he didn't sound pissed off," one boy said.

"Didn't she walk with him after school somewhere on Friday?" Another girl whispered.

"Do you see the way she looks at him? She's totally trying to get with him."

"I would too if I could get five feet near him without that glare."

"I know. He's so hot, but he wastes it by being a complete asshole."

Yuri grunted in annoyance as he straightened up in his chair again. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the class looking at the odd sight.

"He's a big ice skater in Russia, but I haven't heard shit about him here."

One student smacked the other on the shoulder. "That's because you don't care about skating. All you watch is shitty football with the Lions."

"I have to ask Isabel how she ended up with Yuri. If what she does works on him, it'll work on anyone."

Yuri felt a vein in his forehead bulge. He tapped a pen on the desk to drown out the gossip ring. No way in hell could anybody think that he was going out with Isabel. Not only would that take away from his skating, but answering questions about it would be a disaster. Press conferences were bad enough, but reporters always wanted to focus on stupid things like romance instead of skating. He could break every world record imaginable and the only questions would be about the tall American blonde clinging to his arm.

It was not anything personal, Yuri thought. Isabel seemed like a decent person, even if she was extremely sunny and annoying. Although, Yuri hated to admit it, but she looked amazing in that tight school uniform. The green polo she wore clung deliciously to her generously-sized chest while the plaid skirt set of her well-sculpted legs. The way her face lit up and her ocean blue eyes sparkled when she looked at him also had a strange effect on him. It almost made him feel happy that somebody found that much joy to see him.

Yuri blushed to himself while covering his mouth underneath his hoodie. Even thinking about things like that made him want to vomit. The worst part was when Victor suggested that he was feeling the butterflies of the l-word.

Shaking his head, he took off the hoodie as the old male teacher walked in briskly.

"Hello, class," he yelled in a booming deep voice.

Thankfully, the gossip ended. The entire class scrambled for their seats like scared rats in a kitchen filled with traps. This teacher reminded Yuri of Russian teachers; strict and brief about every lesson.

Yuri took a deep breath as Isabel turned to borrow a pen. She was very forgetful about small thing, he learned. He hoped that, if Isabel had any feelings for him and was not just trying to associate with someone famous, they ended soon. Romance was not for him. It was not why he skated. The last thing he needed was for a girl to be romantically interested and then drop him for some jock.

She was just a fan that happened to be by him all the time. The glamour would fade soon. Yuri hoped it would with every page in his history textbook.


	7. Fan Service

The flat tundra of the ice twinkled underneath the powerful spotlights lighting the rink. The fresh ice smelled like clean linen. Plexiglass walls surrounded the rink like walls around a castle. The old rafters swung above the ice from the frigid wind colliding with the building outside.

The hush of a skate cutting through the ice emanated through the small building. The skates hissed with every powerful stroke as Yuri buckled his knees. He held his cool breath with the tilting of his foot upward and heaving through the air. Lifting his frame, he twirled like an unstable twister. Three spins later, he landed on the ice and glided backwards away from the spin. He spread his arms and slid on one foot.

Moving backwards, he growled and slammed his other skate on the ice. Standing upright, he halted his momentum and raced to the sidelines. Stopping himself at the wall, he looked at Victor sitting on the wooden hockey bench.

"That was shit," Yuri said. He slapped the edge of the wall.

Victor shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. You're just not getting enough rotations. Plenty of air, but you're stalling in midair like a crashing helicopter."

"Great. Thanks for comparing me to a crashing helicopter," Yuri said.

"I think it's your leg strength that's the problem," Victor said while holding a white coffee mug. "You're vertical jump is great, but you need to twist more on the dismount. Even if you fall, the revolutions will count."

This was the typical routine during practice. Yuri goes out and tries to push more rotations on every twirl and speed on every twist. Victor looks on with an air of apathy, like he was about to fall asleep. Yuri beat himself up over a missed flip or an occasional stumble while Victor shrugged like he just missed a bus.

Yuri smacked the wall again. "I know that, old man. I just can't get that last turn right now."

"Shouldn't skip leg day," A voice shouted.

Yuri looked over at the empty seat outside the rink. Walking in black sneakers and still in her school uniform with a red polyester jacket, Isabel practically skipped down a ramp to the side of the rink. The top of her head was hidden in a white beanie while the blonde bangs poked out from under the edge. Plopping down on the bench next to Victor she beamed at Yuri.

"I've never seen you skate before, Yurio? Is that going to be your routine? I don't know how this works. There's like a short skate program and a long one? Which one was that?"

Yuri gritted his teeth. "What is she doing here?" he asked Victor.

Victor sling an arm around Isabel and chuckled. "You're friend is here for a very important reason. Take your skates off. I need to teach you something."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. If he was going to learn something, it should be with skates. Shaking his head, Yuri decided that the sooner this stunt ended, the better for his mental health. He slogged over the wall and undoing the fine white laces on his skates. Slipping them off, he set them on his duffel bag like newborn babies. He turned and narrowed his eyes at Victor.

"What is it?"

Victor and Isabel stood up. He placed himself between the two teenagers and cleared his throat. "A big problem you have is not on the ice, Yurio. It's in real life. You have a large fanbase, but you treat them like a dog treats an old chew toy. Disinterested and bored."

"Maybe that's because those fans have that effect on me," Yuri said.

Victor pointed at him. "Regardless, you need to learn how to love your fans."

Yuri flinched as he stepped back. "And how is this going to help me do a triple flip."

"It might help," Victor said. "If you feel like you have people on your side, you might do better. Let's start small. I brought Isabel over so she can be the crazed fan. What are they called."

"Yuri's Fairies," Isabel said. "I didn't know you had a fan club."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me. I can't blink without one of them writing a blog post about it."

Victor pushed Isabel forward. She stood straight like a soldier at attention in front of Yuri. Victor held his hand on her shoulder.

Yuri was stunned this was happening. He looked at Isabel like she was a giant centipede trying to eat him alive. He was shocked that Victor would waste time on something like dealing with his fans. He had great social skills. He just refused to use them. Besides, if he had fans even with his cold shoulder, then he failed to see how he would lose them.

"Here's the scene," Victor said with a grin. "You just got off the ice. The crowd is going crazy because you almost broke one of my world records."

"What do you mean 'almost.' I'm breaking all of your records."

Victor barked out a laugh. "Such a jokester. Anyway, you're walking out of the locker room and leaving the stadium. Suddenly, a crazy fan gets through the security barricade and comes up to you. What do you do?"

"Call security so they can shoot her with a taser?"

Victor shook his head. "Close, but not quite. Let's begin." He said.

He let go of Isabel. She sauntered up to him and grasped his shoulders. Pulling her towards him, she bounced on her tiptoes and grinned.

"Oh my God, I can't believe it's you," Isabel said in a fake high-pitched voice. "You're Yuri Plisetsky. I love you so much. I have a tattoo of you. I even forced my dad to get a tattoo of you. You're so sexy in real life. Can I marry you? Give me your children," Isabel shouted.

Yuri brushed away her hands and took a step back. "Get away from me."

Victor ticked and shook his head like a disappointed mother. "That's what you shouldn't do."

Yuri smoothed out the front of this plain ivory long-sleeved shirt. "But those fans are insane. They tried to take some of my hair and sell it online."

"I saw that. You're hair is definitely not worth a thousand dollars," Victor said. "But that's not important. Even with the craziest fans, you have to be gracious. Instead, ask her what she wants. Let's try again."

Victor tapped Isabel on the shoulder. She took a large step forward and grabbed Yuri's shirt again.

"Yuri! Oh my god, it's you. You're like a god to me. I love you so much," she shouted with her blue eyes reflecting Yuri's disgusted look on his face.

"Get o-. I mean...what do you want?"

Victor sighed. "Nope. Say it nicer. Like your a waiter at a resteraunt."

Yuri grunted. "Fine," he said. He looked back at Isabel. Their noses were almost touching. "Uh...what can I help you with?"

Victor facepalmed as Isabel leaned even closer to him. "I want you to be mine," she purred.

Yuri shifted his eyes towards Victor. The older Russian waved his hands in the air, motioning for Yuri to continue.

"Uh...okay."

"Stop," Victor said. Isabel stepped back as Victor sauntered towards them. He rubbed a bead of sweat off his forehead. "Don't say yes to what they want?"

Yuri sputtered. "You just told me to go along with what they wanted."

"You're not supposed to agree to what they wanted," Victor said. "You're supposed to reject them, but in a way that makes them feel good."

Yuri threw his hands up in anger. "I give up. I don't care about this. I'm supposed to be working on my routine."

'And you are. Just in a different way than usual," Victor said. "Try this. When she asks you to do something crazy, say that you can't because you are not worthy of them."

"Not worthy of them? That makes no sense."

"Just try it. Then, offer to give them an autograph or a picture. Remember, you have to do this with a lot of fans, so be quick about it."

Victor turned around and sat on the bench. He crossed his legs and smiled at the two standing in front of him. "Take three. Action."

Isabel grabbed him again and hopped up and down in excitement. "I love you so much, Yuri. I watch every routine every moment I'm awake. I have all of your posters in my room. My dad had to take a second mortgage out just so I could come here and see you. Will you marry me?" She spouted with the speed of a charging hockey player.

Yuri swallowed and narrowed his eyes slightly. Then, he did something that made both Isabel and Victor surprised.

He reached up and stroked Isabel's neck. "I'm sorry love, but I'm not worth your time. If I married you, I would be denying the rest of the world an angel. Can we take a picture instead? Just so I can remember you?"

Isabel blushed furiously as Yuri's pillow-soft hands stroked her warm, slim face. Yuri's eyes were beautiful under the ice rink lights. His turquoise pools had a focused, yet relaxed gaze. His effeminately shaped face complemented his small smile as he inched forward. He smelled like lavender despite the sprinkled sweat around his forehead. Even his breath had a pleasant, peppermint fragrance that she wanted to taste.

"Sure," Isabel stuttered. "I...I'll put it on Instagram later."

Yuri put his arm down and looked away from Isabel. He shook his head while staring at the empty seats next to him. After a few seconds of huffing, he turned back to the other two. Isabel's face was redder than a tomato. Victor leaned back in surprise while clutching his coffee mug like it was escaping his hands.

"That sucked, didn't it?"

"No," Isabel said. "That was actually good. So good that we are a bit taken aback."

Victor coughed. "I agree. Although you should tone it down. You might cause some girls to faint."

"Hell, he might cause some guys to faint," Isabel added.

Yuri tilted his head. "Really? Was it actually good?"

Isabel nodded. "Incredible. We can keep practicing if you want."

Victor stood up. "That won't be necessary," he said. He put a hand on Isabel's shoulder and pulled her back. "I think we're done for the day. Isabel, you want to stay for dinner? Yuuri is making katsudon again."

Isabel smiled. "I'd love that."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "You people are going to give me a heart attack. My gravestone is going to say: heart attack from his dumbass coach and crazy classmate."

* * *

Otabek sat in front of a pink wall with a painting of a truck hung next to his head. He had developed a scruffy chin in the time away from Yuri. His eyelids were heavy while his black hair stuck up in the back of his head. Dark circles were forming underneath his black eyes.

Yuri sat on his bed with the laptop open in his lap. Skype conversations were a long affair for Otabek. He droned on and on to the tired ice skater while he occasionally nodded in agreement.

"They're just so dumb, Beka. Why do American students know so little about classical music? It's not rocket science."

"Can't imagine why," he said in a gruff voice.

Yuri chuckled before looking back down at the screen. "So that's what it's like in Detroit. The air smells like rotting seafood and the streets are a warzone after eleven at night. A lot of gangs. Not to mention most of the buildings here look like they may collapse any second. There's been like two days where I've actually seen the sun, although that's sort of like Russia."

"So what about this girl?"

Yuri gasped. "What girl?"

Otabek licked his lips. "I talked to Japanese Yuuri to figure out what hotel we're staying at for Skate America. He and Victor mentioned you were seeing a girl."

Yuri clutched his hair. his mouth hung open like a broken dam as words poured out. "What the fuck is their problem? No, I'm not seeing a girl. I mean...there is a girl I see a lot, but that's because we go to school together. I don't know who she is. God, what if Victor told other people. I haven't been on Twitter in forever. What if somebody gets the wrong idea?"

"Relax," Otabek said. "They told me they haven't told anyone else. They just said you were seeing a girl. Never said it was romantic. Just that a girl was coming into your apartment."

"She doesn't just show up at my apartment," Yuri shouted. "Victor brings her over."

"Nothing wrong with a new friend."

"What? Beka, I have literally one friend, and its you. I don't just make friends, man."

"Tell me about her."

"No. Why don't we talk about where you're staying for Skate America?"

Otabek crossed his arms. "Nope. I want to hear about her."

Yuri rubbed his eyes. Otabek was too headstrong for his own good.

"If you weren't my friend, I'd hate you," Yuri said.

"If you weren't my friend, I'd be asleep right now, Yura. Now tell me before I pass out."

"She's nothing," Yuri said. "Okay, I guess that's harsh. She's not nothing, but she isn't anything like that. Know what I mean?"

"Not really."

"She's not a romantic thing to me," Yuri said. "She's a girl I met from the school I told you about. Her name is Isabel, and she is very weird."

"What do you mean by that?"

"She's just happy all of the time. She won't shut up, and she always looks like she is laughing at some random joke. She forgets things sometimes, and she chews on her pencils all of the time. It's annoying. What's really annoying is how much she ends up around me. Victor even brought her over to practice earlier today. But you know what really pisses me off? For some reason, I just talk to her. I find myself being able to say things to her. I don't do that with other people, Beka. I don't even say hello to that street drummer I pass by on the street every day. Shit, I wouldn't even speak to that Japanese pig or Victor if I didn't live by them."

"Anything else?"

"She has an awful taste in music. Something called Motown, but I haven't listened to it. She also eats many things. She told me she wants to be a world-class chef when gave me that food on the rooftop. It must be a hobby, but she seems serious about it. She cooks and eats a lot. For some reason, you can't tell by looking at her. I guess, objectively, she is...nice looking."

"Nice looking?"

Yuri nodded. "Victor and other people tell me that she is very attractive, but I don't see it. Her eyes are really blue though, but I'm just saying that because she doesn't know what personal space is. Also, there is this weird lavender scent whenever she is around. I think she puts perfume on. But let me be clear, it's not because I noticed these things. I'm just telling you what she is like."

Otabek nodded.

Yuri sighed. "I think that's it for today. I just need to think about things for the rest of the night."

Otabek held a finger up. "Yura, I want to ask you something."

"Go for it."

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No, Beka," Yuri said quickly. He shivered as he leaned forward and clutched the screen. The last thing he wanted was to scare away his only real friend before a big contest. "Why would you say that?"

Otabek took a breath. "Yura, all I'm going to say is that you have a lot to think about. I know you don't want to be distracted, but why would you possibly describe how she smells if you didn't care."

Yuri gasped "I told you it's because you asked me to describe her."

"If she was no big deal, you would have just said she was a classmate."

Yuri jumped slightly as he heard a rumble of thunder roll through his room. The walls vibrated as his rock matress shook on it's springs. Otabek blinked at him. Yuri looked back down at the screen.

"Sorry, just weather."

Otabek sighed. "You practically gave me her life story. Seriously, Yura, you might as well know her home address."

"That's just because she gave it to Victor."

"Wait. Do you actually know where she lives?"

Yuri sat in complete silence. This entire conversation was infuriating him. Otabek was just saying all of this to distract him. That made no sense. He was on his side. A victory for Yuri was a victory for him and vice versa. If J.J. had said all of this stuff, he would just brush it off as stupid taunting. To hear these thoughts from Otabek shook Yuri's nerves like the rafters swinging over the ice rink earlier in the day.

"She's just a fan, Otabek."

The older skater nodded. "If you say so. But if she didn't know who you were before all this, and she hasn't asked for things like autographs yet, maybe it isn't just a crazy fan."

"So what should I do?"

Otabek shrugged. "In skating, there is a phrase. 'You never slip, you're just skating a new routine.'"

"That makes zero sense."

Otabek reached towards the screen. "If you slip in a routine, you don't start over or give up. You just keep going on the new path you took on the ice. Even if that wasn't the spot you planned on doing your triple flip, you do the triple flip anyway."

"Still not following."

"See you soon, Yura."

A beeping noise went off. The screen turned white.

Yuri collapsed backwards and fell on the bed with a grunt. Closing his eyes, he felt gravity collide with his bones. Weightlessness took over as he drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

 **As always, please make sure to review, favorite, follow, do anything you can to bring attention. I hope that I make something you can enjoy, and I hope you will express how good (or bad) this is. Something fun and unique for everyone!**

 **I made soft edits to make this canon compliant, following certain events from Episode 12. Very exciting!**

 **Thank you so much. you are the reason we write, and I hope that constructive, long reviews will be left by you, the intelligent reader. The more reviews, the better the story. Is everyone in character. No OOC people so far? What about the OC? What do you think of her? More or less Viktuuri? Let me know!**

 **See you soon!**


	8. Language

With a week to go before Skate America, Yuri felt a strange calm flowing through his ice veins. He always narrowed his focus to the ice and nothing but the ice. He made sure his crimson skates were polished every night while he exfoliated his face with a lemon extract. The last thing he needed was to look like another dumb teenager flailing around on the ice in front of the skating world. Wiping his face with a cloth, he looked at his reflection.

It had been a long few months in Detroit. Living with Victor and Yuuri was still hard to get through. Yuuri recieved a nasty headache every time Yuri came into the room, excusing himself from dealing with the smaller Russian skater. Victor interrogated him about his day at school and how people were treating him. The school was still a little weird to him. The five story private school was decorated with grass green uniforms as students roamed the large building. The floors were an immaculate marble that reminded Yuri of the ice.

His classmates were a nosy bunch. Every time he spoke a word or coughed, a sea of murmurs rippled throughout the school. He swore that a group were following him wherever he went. Whether he sat at the courtyard in the middle of the school with the stone fountain of an angel or looked over the edge of the roof onto the street below, pairs of eyes bore into his back like he was a precious jewel that needed protection from robbers. Most of the students were from upscale neighborhoods, but very few exciting new people moved into the city. There was a mystery that captivated the students like children salivating over lollipops in a candy store.

"He's like super famous, guys," One girl said in the library. Yuri hunched over when he overheard their conversation. He turned his back towards the group in the corner of the room. The large bookcases shielded him from their stares.

"He has a million Instagram followers. He even has a Wikipedia page," Another boy said in a rushed whisper.

"I hope he stays here awhile. I think he'd like me. If he got to know me."

"You thought that about your ex-boyfriend, too. That didn't turn out."

The night before he left for Skate America, Yuri laid on his back on the leather sofa in the living room. He had a giant calculator in his hands as he stared at the scribbled numbers on his notebook. Stretching in his black sweatpants and tight white sweatshirt, he banged his head on the armrest. The math homework in front of him appeared to mock him with its incompletion. The music playing over the speakers in front of the large television was loud and looped for an hour. Victor had somehow learned about the native music from America, and he had grown obsessed with all music Motown. As "Dancing in the Street" blared out into the apartment, Yuri sneered at the homework.

Not that Yuri cared about grades or homework. However, he had to admit to feeling a twinge of guilt whenever Victor saw his grades and shook his head. He had little use for academics, but after looking at Victor, he decided that maybe he could put in a bit of effort just to pass classes.

He groaned and flipped the notebook onto the floor. "This is pointless," he said. Yuri covered his eyes and rested motionless.

Isabel looked over at Yuri from the plush charcoal gray love seat. An oval glass coffee table sat between them. She sat with her legs crossed in her blue jeans. Brushing back her hair, she tapped Yuri on the forehead.

"You okay, Yurio?"

Yuri sat up and huffed. "No, I'm not okay. I don't know shit about the unit circle. How do they expect me to label it?"

Isabel shrugged. "I don't know. I suck at math. I'm doing Russian right now."

Yuri perked up and leaned towards the paper Isabel was looking at. "You take Russian."

Isabel shifted her gaze back to her homework. "I was taking French, but I thought that was a bit boring. Russian is a funner language."

"Как много ты знаешь?"

Isabel giggled and spun herself around so her body faced Yuri. "I have no idea what you just said."

Yuri smirked. "I asked how much you knew. Not very much, obviously."

"Maybe you can teach me, Master." Isabel said in a quiet voice with a small smile.

Yuri's smirk fell away like the leaves fluttering of the trees outside the window. "What?"

Isabel smiled mischievously and moved towards Yuri in the chair. In a teasing way, she fluttered her eyelashes. "Can you teach me Russian, Master. Or would you prefer sir? Maybe professor? Which would you like?"

Yuri began to feel a light flushing around his cheeks. He had to admit that hearing her say those things effected him in an unusual way. He felt the pit of his stomach mix with unease and nervous excitement. "How about you just call me my name."

Isabel leaned forward and rested on her arms by Yuri's head. "Fine, Yurio. How about Russian. Can you teach me?"

Isabel ruined Yuri paused for a second. He looked up at the tall ceiling. The silver fan rumbled above them as they stared at each other. Looking back down, Isabel's eyes reflected his image back to him.

Yuri took a breath. "Hell, no."

Isabel slumped in her chair. "You're no fun."

Yuri smirked. "If you want someone to teach you Russian, ask Victor. He's always whispering in Russian to Porky."

Speaking of the devil, Victor marched down the silver spiral staircase. Sliding down the railing on the last step, he twirled and looked at the two. "I heard my name?"

Isabel raised her hand. "Victor, do you whisper sweet nothings in Russian to Mr. Katsuki?"

Victor chuckled. "Sweet nothings? I guess I say a thing or two to Yuuri. It spices up the relationship a bit."

Just as he spoke, Yuuri hobbled down the stairs. Tugging on a thick wool orange sweater, he stepped with a clunk onto the hardwood floor. He reached over to the speakers and turned off the music. "Are you ready, Yuri?"

Yuri crossed his arms. "Ready? I've been ready for a month."

Victor sighed. "So rude. You'll never gain fans at this rate."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "You two better not ruin anything for me."

Victor took a step forward. "What do you mean by that?"

Yuri snapped to his feet like a bouncing jackrabbit. "I mean don't be all lovey-dovey when we get down to Orlando. I can't get distracted if I see pictures of you walking around the city holding on to each other like you'll lose each other. Also, no kissing in public."

Victor laughed. He crossed his arms and licked his lips. "Since when do you tell me when I can and can't kiss my fiancee?"

Yuuri felt a strange rumbling in his stomach. Like a whale detecting krill, Yuuri sensed when Victor and Yuri were about to fight. He hated fighting in the apartment. He avoided conflict at almost all costs when it came to life outside the ice. Victor wanting to move to Detroit was met with only a nod from Yuuri. Even when Victor chose a lilac color scheme for their future wedding, Yuuri bit his tongue. When the Russian punk moved in, Yuri picked a fight about almost everything. The volatile teenager got upset if Yuuri even looked at him the wrong way.

Yuuri thought it was a disguise for Yuri's insecurities, but he said nothing about it to Victor.

For some reason, this time the fight made Yuuri a little mad. Anger was a rare emotion, but Yuuri's back tightened and his fists clenched, hidden away in his pant pockets. The new life in America was still hard to adjust to, and Yuri made things harder on him. Typically, Yuuri grew cold to people around him before ice time. It appeared that being a coach was no exception to that rule.

"Kiss him in the hotel room, but not out by the cameras."

Victor chuckled. "You have a lot to learn about playing to the camera, Yurio."

Yuri growled. "I don't care about playing to the cameras except when it's on the ice. Stop making me something I'm not."

Victor drew close to Yuri and leaned down slightly. Hovering over him, he looked straight into his eyes that grew from surprise. Feeling his warm breath on his face, Yuri flinched.

"And what are you?" Victor asked. "If I'm making you into something you're not, then what are you? That angry Russian kid that I saw by the rink pushing that kid down seven years ago? That kid that attacked Yuuri in the bathroom? Or are you the one that cried after the Grand Prix two years ago?"

Yuri fumed at Victor. He could not believe that Victor brought up any of those embarrassing moments. Meanwhile, Isabel sat in her love seat confused at the exchange. She knew that Yuri was no fan of her coaches, but the friction was making her hot in the apartment. "I'm none of those. I'm a performer, old man."

"No you're not," Victor said as he walked back to Yuuri's side. He took his hand and lifted it up in the air. "Yuuri was a performer. He took those feelings you have. Regret, sadness, anger, loneliness. All of those. He puts them into his skating. You don't do any of that. You get the technical points, but I feel nothing when I watch you. That emotional connection is gone, and you need to bring it back."

Yuri never heard an insult worse than what Victor flung at him. The words hit him like hail raining from the sky. He put every single fiber of his being into his routine. He let his feelings manifest in his skating, and his skating manifested in his feelings.

"How dare you," Yuri said in a low voice. "That's my life out there," he shouted.

"Then skate like it, Yurio," Victor said with a grin. "Otherwise, you may not win Skate America."

"If I lose, it's because of you two," Yuri said while pointing at the couple. "It's your faults. I'm living with a guy who has a panic attack every time he loses his glasses. Then, I have Maxim Trankov here telling me that I don't have any connection to the ice. You retired because you got bored, which is just code for you sucking. If it was you and me on the ice, you'd need to be taken off in a wheelchair," he shouted.

"Let's just get some sleep for tomo-."

"Shut up, Porky," Yuri yelled. "I don't even know why you're here. You don't say anything at practice, and you suck at doing the laundry. All you do during the day is stare at your fluke silver and gold from the Grand Prix and let Victor ride you from behind at three in the morning. Maybe you two faggots should grow some brain cells and-."

"What did you just say?"

Yuri froze as Victor stopped his outburst. The air was thick like a deep fog inside the apartment. Silence blanketed Yuri like a smothering blanket over a hot grease fire. When his mind caught up with what his mouth just said, his eyes grew in shock at his own words. Isabel looked over at Yuri as she gripped the armrests of the chair. Victor squeezed his fiancees hand tighter. Yuuri stood in shock next to him. His glasses hid part of his eyes with the reflection of the recess lighting in the ceiling.

Yuri felt a twinge of regret. He blinked a few times while the group wallowed in the harsh quiet.

"I didn't...I didn't mean that. What I meant was th-."

"Get out."

Yuri snapped his eyesight to Yuuri. The tall Japanese man let go of Victor's hand and lunged forward. Sizing up to Yuri, he bumped foreheads with him and seethed at the smaller Russian.

"Get out of my house, you stupid punk," He said in a dark, threatening tone.

Yuri was frozen in shock. Was this Yuuri Katsuki? The same guy who teared up whenever he saw those cheesy pet commercials on television.

"Stop touching me," Yuri said weakly. "Get away, you jer-."

Yuuri took a hand and grabbed the smaller boy by the collar of his sweatshirt. The other hand swung back and thrusted forward in a quick motion.

Smack.

Yuri fell onto the couch. Looking up, Yuuri glared in anger at him. He took a deep breath and hunched over Yuri. "Get out of here. I don't care if you finish dead last for the rest of your life. I don't care if you get mugged by a homeless guy. Get out of my apartment and stay out."

Yuri saw no other course of action. He stood up slowly and looked around the room. Isabel's eyes were still wide with shock. Victor had a sad, almost apologetic look as he grabbed Yuuri by the shoulder. The Japanese man stood firm and still had his fists clenched. All Yuri could hope for was that the anger would blow over and he could sneak in later that night.

Racing past the three people in the living room, he snatched his cerulean Team Russia hoodie slung over the back of a barstool. He slung his arms through the sleeves and shrugged it on. He grabbed his phone from the counter and ran out of the room.

The last thing he heard was a quick cry from the living room.

"Yurio, hold up."

He slammed the door shut and rushed down the hallway. His math homework remained crumpled next to the sofa.

* * *

 **Drama is always a problem. Don't worry, Yuri will redeem himself somehow.**

 **So there is tension in the Viktuuri household. Hopefully, somebody will help solve this.**

 **However, reviews are always necessary to make a better story, so please review as much as you can! Please be constructive. How do you feel about the characters? The story? Funny moments? Sad moments? Too slow or too fast? Let me know!**

 **Thank you so much. See you soon!**


	9. Make Up Already!

The ice rink at Campus Martius Park was wedge between two rows of tall ferns waving in the quiet breeze. Restaurants and other buildings lined the perimeter of the park, blocking it from sight on the sidewalk of the street. The bare branches of pine trees were wrapped in white lighting, giving the area a festive holiday aura. People in all colors of jackets and beanies rumbled around the park. Children skipped behind their parents as they ran up to the ice rink. A single black man played a guitar with an attached harmonica on the ivory stage behind the ice rink. Older people sat and listened to the singer while sipping warm beer underneath the nighttime sky.

Yuri leaned on the railing of the rink, looking at the people skating with no hurry or purpose. A few people stumbled and toppled over onto the chopped ice. It was so overused, the typical sheen of clean ice was worn down and replaced with a thin graphite film. It was almost like the people were skating on slush. The lights around the rink twinkled as vibrant as the new skates flashing on one little child gliding through the rink.

The little girl was chugging around the ice like a speeding train. She giggled and leapt up for a simple single loop. When she landed, she clapped to herself and weaved through the traffic of stumbling adults and goofy teenagers trying their hand at ice skating. One of them, a young black man, swirled around the ice with his arms out in front of him like a drunk bar patron kicked out onto the street. With a holler, he collapsed onto the ice. A group of his friends laughed like hyenas.

Yuri rested his head on the cool railing. Watching other people skate amused him to no end. Every time he saw a public skate session, he wanted to run out and shock everybody with a triple lutz. Tonight was an exception.

"Yuri?"

Yuri sighed. He knew the trouble he had caused everybody would catch up to him at some point. Literally.

He turned around and found Isabel behind him. Her tight jacket was zipped up while her hands hid from the chill air in cobalt gloves. Her breath appeared and evaporated in foggy wisps. She moved towards Yuri and leaned on the railing next to him. Looking out at the rink, she chuckled.

"You should go out there and do your routine. I'm sure everyone will be amazed."

Yuri grunted. "Not enough room. I'll knock someone unconscious and be thrown in jail. I heard American jails are rough."

"Worse than Russian jails?"

Yuri turned his head at the girl. Her navy eyes connected with the sight of his blue-greens as she took in his appearance. Yuri was quite disheveled with his large sweatpants and the loose-fitting hoodie draped over his head. The blonde bangs stuck out from underneath the clothing, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"Why are you here?"

"I don't really know. I guess I wanted to help you or make things better, but I don't know how."

"Gee, thanks for trying. You really helped," Yuri said. He turned to look back at the skaters struggling on the cheap ice rink.

Isabel grabbed Yuri by the chin and forced his head towards hers. His heart stopped as she moved an inch closer. The lights from the trees appeared to glow brighter with her gloves warming his chin.

"Listen to me for a second."

Yuri shook off Isabel's hand and looked at her. "What is it?"

Isabel still had no clue where to go from here. Conflict resolution was not something she was good at. She was not the kind of girl to start meaningless drama. However, being put in a tough spot by Yuri in the apartment left her no choice. She hated to leave people on a sour note. Her eyes narrowed slightly. The lights hanging on the trees were difficult for her eyes to adjust to with speed.

"I don't know what happened between you and those two," Isabel said. Yuri scoffed as she continued. "And before you interrupt me, Victor told me everything a few minutes ago. I know about Victor leaving you and getting with Mister Katsuki. I know about Yakov, that other coach you have. He told me about you winning that big competition three years ago and then losing it to Mister Katsuki. The problems with your last coaches and agents, he told me about them."

Yuri frowned. "He didn't tell you everything, then."

Isabel blinked. "Was he lying?"

"No, he wasn't," Yuri said slowly. His face hardened in anger as he took a step towards Isabel. "He didn't tell you about those nights where I couldn't sleep. Those nights where I wondered why I wasn't good enough for the best ice skater in the world."

"Uh...I don't think he told me that."

Yuri laughter dripped with irony and mirth. "Of course not. In his view, he's never made a single mistake in his life. He seems like such a simple guy, but he's a pig. Him and that Japanese freak. Leaving me so I could be with that shitty coach. Then, not only does he fucking beat me in the Grand Prix that next year, but he retires right away. Before I even have a chance to beat him, he leaves. He could have been one of the best, but he wasted it away just so he could be with Victor."

Isabel tilted her head inquisitvely. "Wait. Are you talking about Mister Katsuki?"

Yuri let out another fake laugh. "I guess he didn't tell you about that. About Mister Katsudon beating me at Grand Prix and then retiring. He wasted all of that time and energy I spent trying to motivate him and trying to beat him. And for what? So he could get screwed every day by that closeted Russian?"

Isabel nodded. "He just told me that he left you for another skater. He didn't mention all of that."

"Well, it's fucking true," Yuri said softly. "I'm not good enough for him. And what he said earlier is proof. He just wants me because he knows I'm a meal ticket. He can't win any more medals by himself, so he needs something else to win with. It doesn't matter if I was Otabek, Georgi, or even Jean Jacques fucking Leroy."

At this, Yuri felt his vision blur. He began to tremble like an unsteady building. He sniffled as he looked down at his feet, trying to hide his face from Isabel. "That's all I am to these people. My mom, my agents, you name it."

Yuri flinched when he felt a gloved hand placed on his shoulder. Just as he felt tears brim at his eyelids, he looked up at Isabel. She had a small smile and leaned towards him, their noses almost touching.

"Something else Victor told me was how proud he was of you."

Yuri sniffled louder and stared at Isabel.

"The reason he didn't tell me all of that stuff you said was because he actually broke down the moment you walked out the door. That's why he shouted out at you before you left. He cried and cried about how he was a failure and how he turned you away from him. He was really upset about the stuff he said. He told me that no decent coach would ever do that the night before a big show."

"Are we talking about the same Victor Nikiforov here?" Yuri said in a shaky tone.

Isabel chuckled. "I didn't believe it either. Mister Katsuki calmed down after yelling about you for a minute and he feels bad, too. Although, you said some pretty bad things, Yurio." She stroked his cheek with the light touch of a feather. "I see a lot of things in my neighborhood, Yurio. A lot of people get into gang fights in Eight Mile. The main reason is because one side thinks the other is out to hurt them. Usually, both sides want the same thing, but everyone assumes that people just want to get them. Victor doesn't want to hurt you, and neither does Mister Katsuki. I know for a fact that you don't want to hurt either of them."

Yuri looked at her in a confused state. "And what makes you think that."

Isabel beamed at him. "I have a feeling. I've known you for a month now, but I think I catch on when people are good or bad. You're kind of like a...a cat. You know cats, right? They seem very mean and like they don't care, but when you get down to it, they like people just as much as people like them."

Yuri snorted out a laugh. "At least you compared me to something I like."

Isabel widened her smile. "I think you're a small tabby cat. You know, like a Garfield type cat."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "A tabby cat? Not like a lion or something like that?"

"Nope. Just a small little cat that likes to claw on people's laps."

Yuri sniffled and rubbed away the tears from his eyes. He felt a small weight get knocked off his shoulders. As the skaters spun past them in the rink, the air remained it's frigid Detroit aura. None of that mattered to him at the moment. His passion about skating faded like a flickering lightbulb for just a second as he took in the scene. The middle of Detroit never looked so beautiful with people sashaying around on the ice in joy. Hot dogs sizzled underneath the frigid air covering the park. Yet, all Yuri could see was the tall blonde girl in front of him with the heart-shaped face and gorgeous royal blue eyes, reflecting the white lights from the trees off her irises.

Yuri immediately slapped himself. Gorgeous eyes? No way he just described them in his head that way.

"What's Garfield?" He asked trying to distract himself.

Isabel gasped. "What is Garfield?"

"There's an American president named Garfield. Is that who you're comparing me to?"

Isabel shook her head and ticked away with her tongue. "You have a lot to learn about our country, Yurio."

Yuri nodded. He gathered enough courage to go back to the apartment. He knew that there were a lot of issues he needed to work out with Victor and Yuuri. It was not going to disappear in one night, but making up before a big competition could be a big step in the right direction. Apologizing for things was hard for Yuri, but it had to be done. Yuri knew that he was worth the time and effort of being a world-class skater. It was time to prove to others that he was and make them stick with him.

* * *

After the short walk back to the apartment, Isabel admitted to herself that she was unprepared for going back into the apartment.

Sitting back in the warm love seat, she swung her legs like a hyper kid as Yuri and the other couple sat behind her at the dining table. They all looked at each other, unable to decide who would say the first words. When Yuri walked in, Victor and Yuuri gave him a blank stare. When Yuri sat at the table, they followed him. No words had been spoken between them, and time ticked past eleven at night. The red lights on the skyscraper rooftops blinked like a Christmas tree every few seconds. Lights in the windows went out like dying fireflies every few minutes as people travelled home for the night. The city lights obscured any stars in the sky, leaving a dark globe encompassing the night sky in Detroit.

Yuri took a breath and shifted his gaze from Yuuri to Victor periodically. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you all. And I shouldn't have used that word. I didn't know it was that bad of a word to say in English. It was a reflex for me to hurt you, and it's wrong for me to do that. I'll try to treat you better. Both of you."

Yuuri adjusted his glasses and leaned back in his chair. His long black hair nearly pinched between his neck and the seat. "Yuri, do you know why those things hurt so much? It's not just because you insult me every day. I can deal with that."

"Do you know how hard things were for me, Yurio?" Victor chimed in. He ran a hand through his gray hair. "There are a lot of reasons why I left Russia. One of them was because of myself and Yuuri. Do you know how hard it is to be like us in Russia?"

Yuri remained silent.

"I left Russia so I wouldn't have to deal with people saying things like what you said. The moment I kissed Yuuri on the ice, the media in Russia blacklisted me. Every single speck of dirt they could get on me, they put it on the front page. It's hard to be like us and live in Russia. People are still being thrown in jail just for being themselves. Then, they started to target Yuuri. Headlines about how he corrupted the greatest Russian ice skater alive."

"It wasn't much better in Japan," Yuuri said with a small sniffle. "My mom was getting letters about how I shamed the country. They called me a lot of slurs in those letters. So when we hear you say the same things, it hurts worse than making fun of my weight. People just want to be happy with themselves."

Victor took Yuuri's hand and held it on the glass table. "We just want to be happy about ourselves. We want to be happy and live freely and pay bills and go shopping on Black Friday like every other normal person," Victor said with a sad smile. "That's all we want. The best place to do that is America."

Victor stood up. Yuuri followed suit as they planed themselves besides a seated Yuri. He looked up at Victor as he smiled. "Ice skating means the world to me, Yurio, but this bowl of katsudon I have next to me," he said while nudging Yuuri playfully. "He is the world to me. And you might not believe this, but you are too in a way. I'm sure as hell not letting any politicians in Moscow or bloggers in Tokyo get in the way of that."

Yuuri nodded. He was already crying with the kind words. It still hit Yuuri when he heard things like that from Victor. He never imagined in a lifetime he would ever find somebody who believed that much that he was special. With Victor, Yuuri felt like the only other person in the world. "I know I'm not the most forceful person in the world, but when I heard those things said to Victor, I snapped. I shouldn't have hit you."

Yuri felt his lip wobble as he brushed away a tear. "I shouldn't have said that to you. I'm confused by a lot, and I'll try not to take it out on you so much anymore. And I won't say things like that anymore."

Victor choked on his words and ruffled Yuri's blonde mop. "I know you don't believe me, but I'll prove it to you soon. You're not just a meal ticket. Besides, even if you were, I would probably just go out on the ice. I'd get more money easily."

Yuri scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that, old man."

Isabel stood up and looked at the three. All of them had trails of hot tears rolling down their cheeks. However, they seemed more content with the world for a second. Even if they still had friction between them, it was deposited to the side of the road for a moment.

She clapped at them. "Excellent. That went better than expected. I have to take the bus home now so I can pack. See you tomorrow."

Just as she was about to leave, Yuri held out his palm at her. "What do you mean by that?"

Isabel stopped and looked at Yuri. "It means I will see you at the airport tomorrow."

"You don't have to do that. I'll be back by Monday."

Isabel giggled. "Wait, did you tell him, Victor?"

Yuri narrowed his eyes and looked up at Victor. "Tell me what?"

Victor nervously chuckled. "Well...let's just say that I had some extra money and..."

Yuuri scratched the back of his neck. "Our entourage to Skate America is four now."

Yuri slammed his head on the table.

* * *

 **I hope you all have an amazing Christmas or whatever you celebrate!**

 **How are things going so far? Liking what's happening? Disliking? What about the character relationships? Anything stand out at the moment?**

 **What's going to happen at Skate America. Big collapse. Surprise finish. Will Phichit beat Yuri?!**

 **The more reviews, the better the story can be. Thank you so much. You are amazing readers, and we wouldn't write if it wasn't for you.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	10. Flight

Yuri had no idea why Victor was allowed to sit in first class but not him. The dingy and ripped leather seats felt like they were padded with rocks. They were slim and felt like a straightjacket compared to the plush massage chairs in the front. The straight backrest made him cramp up the moment he sat down. The musty air blowing out of the vents in the airplane made breathing difficult. The plane itself was narrow, like a collapsing tunnel that he was trapped within. The carpet on the floor was dark, stained by mountains of dropped soda and God knows what else.

Flying on the 747 was hard enough without a mouth yapping away next to him.

"I remember the last time I flew. It was on one of those older planes," Isabel, the chatty blonde girl said while leaning over the armrest to speak in his ear. "That was years ago, though. Before you got strip-searched at TSA."

Yuri frowned and fumbled in his pocket for headphones. When he took them out, he pulled on the cord to undo the knots. He grunted in frustration as the black wire tangled and wove through itself. His phone hung loosely from his hoodie pocket. Shoving it back in, he gave up and threw the headphones in his lap. They mocked him as the sliver earbuds gleamed underneath the tungsten airplane light above him.

"You can borrow mine, if you want?"

Yuri looked over at Isabel and huffed. "I'm fine. Thank you."

Crossing his arms, he shifted himself to lean on the outside armrest and closed his eyes.

The flight to Orlando was not the longest he had ever taken. The four hours in the air was not the end of the world. However, Victor was thrilled to give Yuri the double whammy at the airport. Not only was he in coach, but he was going to be next to Isabel for four hours.

It was not that he was completely agitated by Isabel as he was a month ago. In fact, he noticed a worrying trend that he was beginning to enjoy her presence. They traded barbs back and forth like expert tennis players. She had a good ounce of wit in her brain while not being mean spirited. Their conversations even grew verbose at times when involving silly things like emotions. She grounded him from his regular teenage angst.

Yuri grew nauseous just thinking that he was getting accustomed to her. It's not like he was going to live in Detroit forever. After the Grand Prix World Finals, he was back to Russia. Maybe he would say wish her a happy birthday on Twitter.

"I'm glad Victor let me come," Isabel said. "I think I've really started to grow on him."

"Wish I could say the same," Yuri said in a low voice.

"Then it's a good thing we have this flight together. So I can grow on you more," Isabel said as she smiled at the annoyed Russian.

Yuri grunted and turned to face her. "Can I just sleep for a bit?"

Isabel shook her head. "Victor said that you had to talk to me for at least an hour."

"And if I don't?"

Isabel shrugged. "He told me it's bad luck for a skater to not talk to someone on their trip to a competition."

Yuri raised his eyebrows and was taken aback. "What? That's not a tradition. He's a liar."

Isabel sighed. Leaning closer to Yuri, the blonde skater held up a hand and pushed her back gently. "Personal space," he said.

She brushed away his cold hand. "So tell me about these competitions. Who are you up against? How does scoring work? Do they pay for hotels? Are you allowed to shout things out during the skating like a football game? Can you bring signs to th-."

"Shut up," Yuri said with a groan. "Let me explain."

Isabel smiled while brushing back a strand of hair falling in her eyesight. Yuri looked at the girl and sighed. The past week had been emotional enough for him. Victor could not possibly expect him to perform at his best with all that was happening at school and now on this trip. He was annoyed, but he hoped that he could use up some of that frustration by explaining what he was going to do at Skate America.

"At Skate America," Yuri began. "There are about ten people in the mens' category. That's what I skate in. There are two phases you skate in: short program and free skate. Short program is two minutes roughly, and free program is longer. You have to do certain things in short program and free in order to not lose points. Then, you do extra stuff to gain more. That's basically it."

"Really?"

"No," Yuri said. "I think that's all you would know, though."

Isabel nodded. "Fine. So who is gonna be there?"

Yuri looked up at the ceiling of the plane. It rumbled in the sky as turbulence shook the frame like a boat in troubled water. "Not really anybody big. Only Katsudon's friend Phichit from Thailand is well known. Oh...well, there is Emil Nekola. He's skating one spot before me. I guess he's okay. He's from the Czech Republic, but he's nice."

"So do you two speak the same language?"

Yuri scratched his head and looked over at Isabel. "No. He speaks Czech."

Isabel giggled nervously. "I guess that makes sense."

Yuri shook his head in annoyance. "Anyway, Georgi Popovich is another guy skating. He's from Russia, but I don't really care about him. He's a drama queen."

"And your not?"

Yuri stuck his tongue out and crossed his arms. "Please. Georgi out-dramas any of those reality show stars you have here in the States. He wears this shitty makeup that makes it look like he got mugged. His hair is stupid, too. It's this weird point thing that sticks out forward like an arrow."

Isabel laughed. "So like a clown with those eighties haircuts. The flat top."

Yuri smirked. "Huh. I never thought of it that way. I guess he does look like that. There's this other girl named Mila. If you see here, call her Old Lady for me."

"Why?"

Yuri thought about his nickname for the girl. He had not seen Mila in about two years since he won his first Grand Prix. The tall red-haired woman had been pretty successful in Ladies skating, but he barely kept up with her. He missed her pats on the back and even the ruffling of his hair that she did. Even her more annoying moments where she lifted him in the air or teased him about his skinny figure made him chuckle. It made him melancholy for some reason.

"It's a nickname. Actually, you might get along with her. She reminds me of you."

Isabel beamed at Yuri and placed a hand on his shoulder. "That's the nicest thing you've said to me."

"I mean, if she was hyped up on cocaine, I guess she would be like you."

"I have a lot of energy. It needs to be used up," Isabel said with a wink.

Yuri felt his face warm up. There Isabel went with her absentminded flirting again. The Russian teenager had no idea if she did it on purpose or if she was normally this outgoing. It put him in an uncomfortable spot. If he called her out on it and she was joking, it would be embarrassing for him to assume that she was interested in that way. Then again, if she was interested, he would be embarrassed for making her feel bad about it.

Yuri shook off his nerves. She was just a girl from Detroit. It's not like they were going out or anything like that. No matter what Victor told the other skaters in the world, he was in control of his emotions.

He coughed. "Whatever, lady. I'll point her out later. She's gonna be there. That's about it, though. Guang Hong is a skater from China, and he'll be competing. He's a couple years older than me and does a decent quad toe loop. Beyond that, most of the others are just nobodies who are breaking onto the scene."

"So is this supposed to be easy for you?" Isabel asked.

Yuri frowned. "I don't take anything for granted. It's possible someone might surprise. There is this one guy who I'm interested in seeing."

"Who?"

Yuri took out his phone. He turned it on and went onto Instagram. Scrolling through his feed, he found the recent photo he had examined. He took the small smartphone and thrusted it into Isabel's face. She grabbed it and looked down at the picture.

"See the guy on the left?" Yuri asked. Isabel looked at the man. He had medium chestnut brown hair parted down the middle. His eyebrows were big and bushy as he donned a closed smile on his clear face. The tan man donned a black tracksuit and stood around Yuri's height.

"That's Leo De La Iglesia," Yuri said. "He's from Florida. He won Skate America two years in a row, but had a big injury at last year's Cup of China. So, he retired and he's started to coach and choreograph for someone else. The guy next to him."

Isabel looked back down and noticed the man next to Leo. He was a hair taller than his coach, but his posture made him seem taller. The confident man had a bright and wide smile that accentuated his prominent cheekbones. His wavy blonde hair was mussed up from skating while his green eyes shone in the light of the camera flash. His white skin was sun-darkened as he leaned on Leo. The tight white uniform fit snugly onto his athletic and wiry body.

"That's Jake Agreste," Yuri said. "He's a French-American from...what's that state where New York City is in?"

Isabel stared at the screen. "New York," she said.

"Right. he's from there," Yuri saidy. "He's a rookie that's been tearing it up in Junior championships. He's about a year younger than me, but people are saying he is a big deal. If Leo decided to coach him, then I guess he has to be worth something."

Isabel nodded. "He's about a nine," she said nonchalantly.

Yuri was confused. He snatched the phone back and stowed it in his pocket. "What?"

Isabel snickered. "A nine out of ten. Sorry, Yuri, but he looks like a supermodel."

Yuri gasped as the brain connections fired up in his head. "So what? Who cares how he looks. It's about his skating."

Isabel shrugged. "I have to call balls and strikes, Yuri. And the fact of the matter is that boy is fine. Try not to beat him to badly."

Yuri could not believe what he was hearing. "Are you serious, lady? I don't care if he looks good or bad. I'm beating him."

"Maybe I could get his number," Isabel said to herself. "I'm sure he'd text me back unlike somebody else." She said as she gazed at Yuri from the side of her eyes.

Yuri grunted. "You texted me at three in the morning about something I didn't know. What was I supposed to do?"

* * *

As the two bickered with each other, the plane cut through the clouds hanging over flyover country. Icicles formed on the wings of the plane. The sun disappeared, hiding underneath the horizon until the next morning. The dim streetlights of towns seemed like an oasis in a desert of darkness from thirty thousand feet.

For the two teenagers, bickering turned into teasing, and after the bowl of cheap cheese and crackers Yuri bought, they were growing more and more comfortable in their seats. Time rocketed past them like the brave birds sailing beneath them in the nighttime sky. They were both tired from the flight, but they were too restless from the weekend ahead to sleep.

Eventually, Yuri found himself at that weird point to where he could talk to this random, crazy girl about anything. He had no idea how she did it, but he was relaxed for once before a competition. Even if that feeling ended the moment they landed in Orlando, he would be grateful.

Floating over Tennessee, the pair were laughing for the hundredth time about Yuuri's strange cleaning habits in the apartment.

"He's just so stupid. Why would you put fabric softeners in the laundry if you knew Victor was allergic," Yuri said as he chuckled.

Suddenly, Isabel saddled up to Yuri and clutched his arm. He stopped his laughing over Yuuri's stupidity and looked at her in the eye. She had a deep, almost seductive look on her face as her royal blue eyes narrowed slightly. A mischievous smirk grew on her face as she moved so close to Yuri, they could feel each other's breath on their lips.

Yuri blushed as Isabel came inhumanely close to his lips. A cherry scent wafted itself into Yuri's nose as he went crosseyed looking at the blushing blonde girl.

"You know I was just kidding about getting that skater's number, right?" She asked in a sloppy voice.

Yuri tried to lean back. "I think you're a bit tired-drunk right now. Maybe you should sleep."

Isabel kept her grip on Yuri's collar and squeezed it in her hand. "I'm not tired. I mean, I haven' slept in forever, but I'm fine." She slurred.

Yuri breathed a little harder to keep his calm. These moments happened more and more in the past week. Isabel would stop being fun and annoying to be this weird mix of flirtatious and playful. He stopped trying to decipher if she was joking or not. He just wanted to het out of the situation.

"No, you need to sleep. We have a big day tomorrow."

Isabel put her forehead on Yuri's, each of their blonde bangs tangling with each others.

Yuri thought his heart was going to break out of his chest and knock him over the head with a mallet. Now would be a great time for the plane to crash, he thought.

"What would you do if I kissed you right now, Yurio," Isabel whispered in a husky voice.

Yuri swore he felt a bead of sweat run down his cheek. "Uh..."

Isabel's blue eyes flashed in ecstasy. "The big ice skater Yuri Plisetsky. Making out with a stranger on a plane. That woul be a funny headline, wouldn't it?"

Yuri's eyes bulged and he shook his head. "No, I don't think they'd care," he said.

"Liar," Isabel said. "I bet if I kissed you, everybody here would know it. They'd take pictures and it would be everywhere."

Yuri looked out the window behind her. He pointed out at a random cloud. "That cloud looks weird. Look over there. That cloud is interesting, right?"

"I bet you taste good, Yurio," Isabel said. "Then, when we get to the hotel, we could continue what we started here."

Yuri would slap himself later on, but he swore he let out a soft squeal in Isabel's hands. This lady cannot be serious. She was making him a nervous wreck for suggesting anything like this. Yuri was an ice skater. He was not supposed to be entertaining things like this. Yet, here he was trapped at cruising altitude with a crazy girl that was making him feel not only uncomfortable and some other feelings he would rather not admit to.

As soon as it started, Isabel let go of him and rested her head on the window. "Maybe some other time," she said. Her eyes fluttered shut and she cocooned herself with her arms. "I need to sleep. Wake me up when we land."

Out like a dead lightbulb.

Yuri felt his hot face and tried to drink a bottle of water. His hands were shaking as he gulped the entire canteen of cool water down his throat. This is what Victor wanted. He wanted to rattle him before the big competition. That explains why he brought Isabel with her. Although using someone just to shake his own skater to the core seemed odd and cruel. There was no reason to drag an innocent girl into this, even if Victor had bad intentions. What about Isabel's intentions? Was she romantically interested? Was she just craving a piece of fame and fortune. Who was she even?

Most importantly, why did he feel an instinctive urge to call her bluff and lock lips with her?

"Excuse me, do you need anything?"

Yuri looked up at a flight attendant in a black blazer and white vest with a matching miniskirt. The old lady with gray hair smiled at him while he broke out of his reverie. After staring at her for a few seconds, he opened his mouth.

"Can I ask you something?"

The flight attendant nodded. "Of course. Do you need anything?

Yuri blinked. "Yeah. What the hell did you put in that cheese, lady?"

* * *

When the flight attendant told Victor what was going on, he burst out laughing. Yuuri, who was trying to type away on his laptop, jumped up in his seat.

Yuuri tapped Victor on the shoulder as the flight attendant walked away. "Victor, what's wrong?"

Victor kissed Yuuri on the cheek. "Absolutely nothing, my little pork cutlet. Everything is going perfectly. Yurio may just perform his best program yet. Or worst. We''ll just have to see."

* * *

 **So what's going to happen at Skate America? Yuri on top? Phichit on bottom? An upset? What about Leo's protegee? Will this OC have a role in anything? Is there love in the air? Or is it just Yuuri's cooking?**

 **Let me know what you think is going to happen and what you would like to see happen. Let me know!**

 **Thank you so much. Make sure to review and all that jazz. Reviewing tells me how things are going and will make this tory better and better. So it's a win-win for both of us if you review with constructive help. Or just tell me how you're feeling so far. I wasnt something fun and unique, and I hope to give it to all of you.**

 **Thank you for reading. See you soon!**


	11. Orlando

The heat bearing down on nighttime Orlando was not so bad as the humidity. The bright downtown area buzzed with slow-rolling buses and pedestrians strolling down the warm streets. The windows in bars and shops were coated with a thin skin of dew from the heavy moisture. A latin jazz band played on the sidewalk by Lake Eola etched into the ground behind the skyscrapers. The buildings and their blinking lights reflected in the ripples cascading through the water. It was muggy as usual in the hot city. People scrambled up and down the road to the next bar in tight clothes while drinking open beer. The whole area smelled like alcohol and sweat.

The white streetlights lined the streets like soldiers for a King as the blue Ford Focus crawled down Church Street. The small car gleamed in the lights of the street signs while weaving to dodge the haphazard travelers. Yuri rested his head on the cool window as the bars and restaurants slid by on the street. A lilac scent bloomed through the car as the vents pumped out cool air.

Of course, Victor was driving which added an element of excitement to the sleepy drive. The interstate was a disaster with Victor skidding around traffic like he was skating past falling children on the ice. Yuuri sat petrified like a dead body on the passenger side of the front and squealed with every car they passed. Driving on the right side of the road was new to Yuuri, and Victor was adamant that they make it to the hotel in time for check in.

Pulling up to a tall brown building with rustic railings on every room balcony, the Russian stomped on the break and lurched the car to a halt. Yuuri pushed the door open and collapsed forward. He stood up on his thin jelly legs and leaned back on the car. The air was thick, causing Yuuri to heave in extra air for every panicking gasp.

Yuri and Isabel exited the vehicle while Victor climbed out of the car. He ran up to Yuuri and threw the Japanese man's arm around him.

"Relax," Victor whispered in Yuuri's ear. "We're here. You don't have to worry anymore."

Yuuri looked up at him. "Just slow down a little next time."

"Seriously, Victor," Yuri said as he saddled up next to the couple. "You're proving the Russian stereotype of being shitty drivers true."

Victor waved Yuri off. "I didn't hit anything, right?" He said. He took the keys and threw them at a young black male sitting in a rocking chair at the entrance. "There you go, sir. Please park it safely."

The four walked into the hotel. The sliding doors moved in front of them to reveal the giant lobby. The golden walls were complemented with silver baseboards that ran around the perimeter. A water fountain rained behind the marble front desk. Mahogany tables with white roses sat around the lobby as a jazz song played over the speakers in the ceiling.

As Yuuri checked in with an excited Isabel in tow, Yuri sat down on one of the tangerine couches placed in front of a giant framed pastel painting of a single apple. He folded his hands in his lap and looked down at the ground.

Victor plopped himself next to him on the couch. Yuri tensed up and glared at Victor from the side.

"Pretty nice, huh?"

Yuri whipped his head around and jabbed a finger at Victor. "Why was I in that plane dealing with her for four hours?"

Victor smirked. "We had to cut back for the hotel room. Isn't this a nice place?"

Yuri narrowed his eyes in anger. "Don't play stupid. You left me with her on purpose."

Victor smiled. "Duh. What other reason would I have?"

Yuri stammered. "I don't know what bullshit you're pulling on me, but it's not going to work."

"Don't you get it," Victor said. He leaned over to Yuri and threw an arm around him. Yanking him closer to him, he pointed at the front desk. Yuuri was arguing with the front desk manager, a tall and bald man, over floor arraignments while Isabel bounced on her tip toes in delight. "Those two have been your biggest inspiration for skating these past two years."

Yuri scoffed. "One of them was motivation. Until he retired. And the other one only motivates me to have a headache."

Victor let go of Yuri as the Russian teenager fixed his hair. Covering one eye, his blonde hair was slightly curled and frizzed from the humidity.

"Look," Yuri said in a quiet tone. "I don't need to be distracted right now. Tomorrow is Skate America, and that girl messing with my head won't help."

"How is she messing with your head?"

Yuri stood up. He looked down on the Russian man and waved his hands in his face. "Are you serious?" He said in a hushed tone. "She's been messing with me since we met. She is nuts. And I don;t mean just the regular American girl nuts. She is in a different league. You planned on all of this, and you're trying to make me screw up."

Victor shook his head. "I'm not trying to screw you up. I'm trying to get you to perform. Not just skate, but perform."

Yuri sighed. "She also kind of flirts with me, but not really? She's a confusing person, and I don't know why I feel so weird."

"So weird?"

"I get really annoyed by her, but I also don't want her to not be that way. You know what I mean? She's easy to say things to, and it sucks because I don't know why. It just makes things more complicated for me. "

Victor smiled. "Some things are inexplainable, Yurio. I have an idea. You're seeing Otabek tonight, right?"

Yuri crossed his arms in front of him. "I'm not taking her to see Otabek."

"Why not?"

"Because he'll get the wrong idea?"

"Are you sure the idea he will get is wrong?"

The blonde groaned. Victor was becoming more and more confident that Yuri was beginning to feel certain stirrings in the emotions department. For weeks, the gray haired man had teased Yuri about the girl that had somehow become the only person in America he was on speaking terms. It was annoying as hell, but Yuri thought about it for a second. If he acted so defensive, it would be a dead giveaway that there was more to Isabel.

Yuri needed to change strategy. Nonchalant was a cooler, less obvious way to deal with things.

"Fine. I'll take her when I see Otabek, tonight. It's just dinner anyway."

Victor jumped up in excitement. "Great. It's a date, then."

Yuri stepped on Victor's shoe, causing the older man to wince in pain. "Stop it. Don't say that shit out loud."

"What out loud?"

Yuri looked over to Isabel. Her lime blouse and short brown shorts fit snugly on her as she stood at the same height as Yuuri in her obsidian sneakers. Yuuri, in his black long sleeve and jeans, adjusted his glasses and frowned.

"Nothing. We were just talking about tomorrow," Yuri said a little faster than he should have.

Yuuri cleared his throat. "Our rooms are ready. Three rooms for us. Me and Victor are sharing, obviously."

Victor stepped towards Yuuri and pecked him on the cheek. "We share everything already, don't we?" He asked in a flirtatious manner.

"Including spit, apparently," Isabel said.

Yuri looked over at the blonde girl. Might as well get it over with, he thought. "I'm meeting a friend at a place for dinner. Want to come?"

Isabel grinned. "So like on a dat-."

"No," Yuri shouted. The three people in front of him stared in surprise. Yuri looked around and tried to compose himself. He was only proving Victor correct with every nervous tick. After all, if he couldn't handle this one girl, how was he going to face the pressure tomorrow?

"What I meant was," Yuri said slowly. "You asked about meeting some people, and Otabek is the best I can think of. And I know you're hungry."

"Actually," Yuuri said while holding a hand up. He turned to face Victor and began to pull out his phone. "Me and Victor have plans, too."

Victor gasped and tugged on Yuuri's collar. "We do? You have a nice, romantic evening lined up for us, my little katsudon plate?"

Yuuri put his phone in Victor's hands. "Uh...I guess so. But after we eat, I wanted to go see a place."

Victor looked down at the screen. He frowned at the image and shrugged. "I don't know what you're showing me, Yuuri. Is that an abandoned building?"

He pointed at the screen. "Read that."

Victor scrolled through the phone, his finger tracing its way down the screen. A lightbulb lit up in his head. Victor looked back up at Yuuri. He nodded his head and put a hand on Victor's back. Isabel and Yuri looked at each other in confusion. Hopefully, they weren't planning any quick schemes that would effect his chances the next day. Knowing Victor, all Yuri could expect was the unexpected.

Victor gave the phone back to Yuuri. "I heard about that," he said. "All of that stuff that happened over there. It's been about a year or so, hasn't it?"

Yuuri nodded. "There aren't many people there right now, so cameras won't be a problem. I just thought it would be a good idea."

Victor felt a tight lump forming in his chest. "I understand," he said. "We should go over there. Maybe we can stop at the Wall Spot and get some flowers."

"Wal-mart. It's called Wal-Mart." Isabel corrected. "And where are you going?"

Yuuri grabbed Victor's hand in a rare, bold move by him. "Dinner and then...nightclub. We'll be back early."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "You still can't get away from partying," he told Victor. "Whatever. Have fun"

* * *

Otabek's jawline was really sharp, Isabel thought. It could cut a flat sheet of paper.

The Kazhaki man sat tall in the wooden chair as he rubbed his hands on the ivory satin table dressing. Wearing a blue jacket with red board shorts, he sat with a natural frown on his face. Anchoring the cloth to the table was a golden plate holding steaming heaps of yellow rice with small bits of corn. Next to the rice was a chunk of pork shoulder simmering in its juices. The soft meat was mixed in with the white fat as it crumbled underneath his fork.

Yuri and Isabel ordered the same thing and both looked down on the plate. Yuri had a worried look, while Isabel shook her head.

"The big problem with this dish is the presentation," she said. Taking a plastic fork, she pushed grains of yellow rice away from the pork shoulder. "The rice is just too overcooked. It's almost a mush. Also, when you see the fat on the pork shoulder, it usually means it's not seared enough."

Yuri looked at the blonde girl who was playing with the food. "So is it safe to eat or not."

Isabel smiled at him. "Of course, Yurio. I'm just saying it could be better."

Yuri took a bite from the pork. The soft flakes of meat mixed with the juices running down the meat. The seasoning made the pork spicy, probing Yuri's mouth like a ray of chili powder. He snatched his glass of cold water and chugged it down. The water extinguished the hot pork and stinging spices in his mouth.

Isabel laughed. "You Russians are not very good with spicy food, are you?"

Yuri huffed. "What makes you think it's a Russian thing? I can cook great spicy stuff."

Isabel brushed her hair back. "Really? Since when can you cook?"

"I've always been able to cook. Just haven't had the chance."

Isabel leaned closer to Yuri. "Then cook for me, Yurio. When we get back to Detroit, make me something Russian."

"No," Yuri said with a small smirk.

"I guess it's not good enough, then."

Otabek shifted his eyes back and forth like a spectator watching a tennis match as Yuri's face grew red. "It is good enough. I just don't think you're ready."

"Ready to die? I guess not," Isabel said with a giggle.

Yuri slammed down his fork. "Fine. I'll make you something."

Isabel cheered. "Perfect. I hope it's good."

"It'll be amazing. You couldn't handle my Russian meat."

"What?"

Yuri stopped breathing. He realized what he just said, and his face was in a complete blush. Lost in the moment, the wording tumbled out of him like a boulder falling off a cliff. He looked over at Isabel. She had a slight blush on her face as well. However, a small smile masked any embarrassment. She leaned forward and brushed her hand on Yuri's closed fist.

"So I won't be able to handle your meat, Yuri?"

"Shut up."

"That's what you said," she said in a sing-song voice.

"Not talking to you anymore."

"How big is that meat going to be, Yurio?"

"The water tastes nice, doesn't it?"

"Then prove it, Yurio. Prove I can't handle it."

Before Yuri could retort, Isabel screeched back in her chair and stood up. "I'll be back," she said. Sauntering to the restroom, she left behind a sweltering Yuri and a confused Otabek.

Yuri was shocked at how quickly he embarrassed himself. Not only that, he embarrassed himself in front of his one friend in the skating world. If Otabek was the kind to spread gossip, he might have to retire and move to Siberia. Only some magical force could have made him carry on like that. He would never entertain stupid exchanges before. When he got back to Detroit, he had to make something Russian for Isabel. He had not cooked in years, and when Isabel told Victor, he was sure the gay Russian would force him to keep his promise.

Yuri turned to Otabek. The taller man had a stone expression on his face. His hands were resting on the table in front of him as he stared at Yuri.

"So...that's what I deal with every day, Beka. If I die young, now you know why."

Otabek sipped his ginger ale and set down the cup. "Yura, can I ask you something personal?"

Yuri nodded. "Beka, we've known each other for two years. That's practically forever. Ask me anything?"

"How gay are you?"

Yuri sputtered. "What?"

"Are you a little gay or very gay?"

Yuri looked at Otabek like he was a zombie. He knew this conversation was going to come up one day. He wanted to protect Otabek's feelings fro the longest time. He did not want to lose his friend. "Beka...I...I don't know how to answer that."

"Just tell the truth."

"Are you gay?"

Otabek's eyes widened slightly as he took another sip from the cup. The clattering of plates from the kitchen was the only sound surrounding them in the bare crimson-walled room. The high ceiling had lights that fell down on the two skaters like spotlights on the ice. The two skaters stared at each other. Otabek's brown eyes were blank, while Yuri's shone in the dim room.

"Nope," Otabek said with a shrug.

Yuri nearly collapsed in his seat. His shoulders buckled as he rested his head in his hands. The tension floated away as he let out a deep breath. "Thank God."

"Huh?" Otabek grunted.

Yuri looked back up at Otabek. "Beka, I thought you were gay."

Otabek blinked a few times at lightening speed. "Wait, so you aren't gay?"

"No. Why would you think that?" Yuri almost shouted.

"I thought you had a crush on me."

"I thought you had a crush on me, too."

"Do you?"

"No," Yuri shouted. "I mean...I like you, Beka. Not in that way. That's why I'm relieved. I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

Otabek shifted in his chair. "I'm your friend, but I don't like you in that way."

"Wait a second," Yuri said as he brushed his hair away from his face. "Are you telling me that we both thought the other was gay?"

"Yes."

"And we thought one was attracted to the other."

"Yup."

"So I'm not destroying our friendship by saying any of this?"

"If you were gay, then I would have to reject you, so I guess not."

Yuri wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead. "That's good. I mean...it's totally fine if you do like me like that, Beka. I can't return those feelings, though."

"Yura, do you really think I would fall in love with you? I have higher standards than that."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Gee, thanks for the boost, Beka."

Otabek grinned. "My other question is just how oblivious are you?"

Yuri tilted his head in confusion. With that wight off of him, their friendship could progress further. However, Otabek was seriously weirding him out with these quesitons. The bulky man rarely said much at all, let alone all of these inquiries.

"What do you mean?"

Otabek snorted. "Come on, Yura. Isabel is totally into you."

Yuri sighed. "I know. It's a real problem. I'm not saying she's a bad person, but I think she is way over her head dealing with me. Hell, I'm in way over my head dealing with her. What she wants just wouldn't work out."

"The oblivious part is you," Otabek said.

Yuri looked at Otabek with a disgusted face. "What the hell, Beka?"

"Give me a break," Otabek said. He drained the rest of his drink and set it down. "You have a massive crush on her."

"I do not," Yuri whined.

"Please. It's obvious," Otabek said. "The way you blush whenever you make serious eye contact. The way you banter back and forth. What about when you stepped out of the car outside the restaurant? You tried to grab her hand on the way out."

"That's because I slipped and tried to grab onto something," Yuri said. His heart pounded faster as Otabek sat smug in the chair across from him.

He smiled. "You have a crush on her. Victor told me that you won't shut up about her when you're home."

"That's because she says and does the weirdest things," Yuri said. The pain in his chest increased. He felt like he was going to have a complete panic attack. These feelings were not true. Even if they were, they were wrong.

"So talking about her hair and her eyes and all of that?"

"Damn it, why did Victor say that to you?" Yuri growled. His eyes reddened slightly as he nearly jumped out of his seat. "That was just to describe her to him."

"Yura, I want you to win tomorrow," Otabek said. "I want to face you at the Grand Prix. I know something about skating. You can't skate when you aren't sure of your feelings. That's like a painter unsure about what colors he will use on a mural. You have to be sure of these things before you show it to the world. Im not saying you confess anything right now, but at least be comfortable about what you believe in."

Yuri looked down at his plate of untouched rice and pork. His life was getting more complicated by the day. This random girl from Detroit was putting him in a complete tailspin, like a plane crash landing in the ocean. He had no idea what to think anymore. Whenever he did see her, his heart rate increased. When they were in close proximity, he felt his chest leap with nerves and...anticipation? He was almost waiting for Isabel to go just a step too far and close the gap between their lips when she teased them. She calmed him down when Victor was annoying and even made him, the angsty and annoyed Russian teenager, laugh from some witty joke once in a while.

She was too weird for her own good. She was too cute for her own good. She was too honest and funny for her own good.

He should not be thinking any of these things, but it was hard for the teenager to bear. he could not keep it in for one more second.

"Beka."

They sat in silence for a few seconds.

Yuri swallowed. "Do you...do you know what that feeling is like? That feeling of being in..."

"In love?"

Yuri said nothing.

Otabek laughed. A real joyful laugh. Yuri never heard that from the serious man before this event.

"If you have to ask that, you're probably feeling it."

* * *

 **I have to say, this chapter was a lot longer than I intended. I feel like things are going a little too fast, but let me know if the pacing is right or wrong.**

 **So what's going to happen next?**

 **Where did Yuuri and Victor go? Go ahead. Guess. It will be revealed next chapter.**

 **What about Isabel? Is Yuri feeling the pangs of romantic attraction? Was it just the Cuban food? Will this effect his performance at Skate America? For better or worse? The competition is next chapter as well.**

 **How are you feeling about the characters? In character enough. Is the OC decent?**

 **Please review and leave as many comments as you can. Only you can help me make this story better, and I want something fun and unique for everyone. Tell your friends to read as well. I'll give shoutouts to let you know that I see you reviewing!**

 **Thank you so much. See you soon!**


	12. The Night Before

South Orlando was desolate as the surface of an empty planet. The black road stretched through empty shops and rising construction sites. Only the buzz of passing cars spread noise through the silent district of the busy city. Unlike the rest of the area, not a speck of grass existed, incarcerated by concrete foundations and sidewalks. Tourists stuck to the downtown area or International Drive. Locals found other places to entertain themselves.

The car hummed towards the curb on a side road and squealed to a halt. Victor was still too hard on the brakes. Rubber lay singed on the surface and left a burning smell around the car. Turing the keys, Yuuri and Victor stepped out of the car. The air suffocated like a thick blanket over Yuuri's head. Holding a bundle of soft red roses, the thorns pricked his hands with every step he took away from the car.

Victor scurried over to Yuuri and walked with him. The cracked sidewalk gave way to dark asphalt. The surface was a parking lot where people left stranger's cars and buses to run inside the building. It had been years since that last happened.

The building itself remained unchanged. It was a short black cube that hid from the world behind a security fence. Without the white sign that stood tall and blinked by the street, Victor would have thought it was another construction site. The various wallpapers and flowers lining the fencing changed his opinion quickly. The only other signs of life in the area was a few patrons of a fast food restaurant across the street.

Yuuri put down the flowers by a small wooden cross that leaned on the fence. Behind it, a painting of two fists holding one another hung on the rail.

When Yuuri stood back up, he looked over at Victor. He wore a serious frown as he stared at the messages scrawled on poster board and extinguished vanilla candles laying on their side. The building seemed forgotten between the side street and an automobile garage. With the ink sky spread above their heads, the area was a snow-globe, encapsulated away from present reality.

"I feel selfish," Victor said. Yuuri turned to him with glassy eyes. "It didn't register what happened here when it actually occurred."

Yuuri blinked a few times. They stood in silence, soaking in the dry breeze ruffling Yuuri's black hair.

"I had just retired and began to train Yuri," Victor continued. "I heard a few things on the news, but I guess I never knew all that much about it."

Yuuri looked behind him. The large sign rose into the night sky like a lighthouse by an ocean. He kept up with news regularly. Whether it was mornings of seeing his mother pour over the newspapers or his busy Twitter feed, Yuuri kept up with most events. He had to say, this tragedy hit him the hardest for world events. He was not one to scroll past the latest disaster in other countries, but they were separate from their reality.

"I remember learning about it," Yuuri said. Victor turned around and peered at the back of his fiancee's head. "I was skating, and it was after a big competition. I always get too attached to big news events. I remember when a few houses were broke into an hour from my town. I was five, and I was so scared. Mom said I worry too much all the time, but there always seems to be a reason to worry."

Yuuri turned around and faced Victor. "Those people in here that night weren't worrying about anything like what would happen to them," he said with his voice cracking. "It hurt because I was afraid of what would happen after we were engaged, Victor. Whenever I think about bad things that could happen to us, I think of this."

Victor took Yuuri's hand. They were unusually clammy in the warm Orlando night. Yuuri's face was dark, illuminated only by the flickering yellow lights from some candles behind Victor. "Can I tell you a story, Yuuri?"

Yuuri nodded.

"In Russia, there is a fairy tale. A young traveller is walking down an empty country road. Then, there is the Grim Reaper. He pops up in front of him and tells him it's time to leave. The man panics, and he tells the Grim Reaper to wait ten days."

Victor rubbed his finger on Yuuri's palm and continued. "The Grim Reaper was confused. Usually, people begged and cried and tried to run away when he showed up. All this guy was asking for was a few days more. It was so strange, the Grim Reaper decided to give him that time. So, a few days pass. The Grim Reaper shows up to see what he is doing. The man is doing a bunch of good deeds around town. He is giving things away, helping people, and it made the Grim Reaper surprised. Usually, people who suspected they were close to death just did whatever they wanted to live a little."

Victor stroked Yuuri's slightly swollen cheeks. His dark eyes shone in the pale moonlight from the white orb in the sky.

"Finally, ten days go by," Victor said. "The Reaper comes to take the man away. He asks the man what he did. The guy said, 'I tried to get somebody to love me.' The Reaper is even more confused. The guy said to him, 'I know I'm young, and you came to take me early, but if I gained somebody's love, I could die in peace.'"

Victor smiled as he continued to stroke Yuuri's face in a soft, loving manner. "The Reaper grew curious and asked if he found it. The young man laughed and said, 'I did, but not how I expected. I tried to give people so much money and help them with anything they needed done, but I still didn't feel love. Finally, I was sitting on the sidewalk and upset, thinking I had failed. Just then, I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was a little boy, and he asked me if I was okay. I lied, but he took my hand and squeezed it. He said if I ever needed help, he lived in an alleyway not far from my house, and he would listen."

Victor took a small breath. "The man stopped and told the Reaper that he learned something about love. It wasn't going to be gained with material things or favors. In fact, it might not even come from people you know. Love is not supposed to be conditional, Yuuri. That an felt love in just the touch of a random stranger, and he told the Grim Reaper he was finally prepared to leave the Earth."

Victor hugged Yuuri. His strong arms made the stress in his back fade away. The crook of his neck seemed to fit his head perfectly as Yuuri burrowed his face into his neck. There were no tears or sobs. There were no laughs or joy. They were two strangers happy to be in each other's existence. A comforting warmth flowed through Yuuri's veins, giving him the energy to skate a marathon in cracked ice.

When Victor let go, he smiled at Yuuri. "i don't really know what my story has to do with what happened here, but it's just something I felt I should share."

Yuuri smiled. A real smile that shined in the dark parking lot. "Thanks, Victor. I know I get a little to anxious at times."

Victor laughed. "It was one of the things that attracted me to you, my katsudon."

Taking his hand, the couple began to walk away from the site. The nightclub rested in darkness, gaining dust as the world travelled around it like a boulder in the path of zebra in the serengheti. Heavy bass bursting through speakers would no longer roll through the hallways. Revelers and ravers disappeared into the tropical night. Their footsteps ceased to pound the pavement in excitement as they headed towards the weekend celebrations.

Victor hoped people had moved on from the tragedy. There was so much to celebrate and cheer about in the world. Tomorrow would be a good day. He got to see the fruits of his and Yuuri's labor for the first time. Yuri was going to do well, although Skate America was a given. The visit to the Pulse Nigthclub made Victor rethink himself. Five years ago, he would have slapped himself for thinking there was more to life than skating. Being reminded of the lives that could no longer celebrate that shook him. His life was precious, but it would be worht every ounce of pain as long as Yuuri stood next to him.

Yuuri was the most important thing in his life. There was no other way around it. Ice skating did not mean as much.

Victor smiled at his revelation.

"By the way, you want to know the name of the kid? The boy in the story who helped the guy?"

Yuuri looked over at Victor. "Sure."

"His name was Yuri."

Victor smiled to himself when he saw the shade of red Yuuri's face grew.

* * *

Yuri groaned at the knock on the door. Leaping from his bed in the hotel room, he yanked the door open. Isabel stood in the hallway with her normal smile. She still wore the same clothes from the restaurant.

"What is it?" Yuri said. He was cranky from lack of sleep, and he needed sleep to be at his best.

"Well," Isabel said with a mischevious smirk. "In America, there is a tradition for athletes before competitions. The athlete has to kiss somebody for about five minutes the night before the big game. So...we need to make out in your room. You can use tongue, too. If you want."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Hilarious. What do you really want?"

Isabel sighed. "Okay, you got me. In all seriousness, I need to give you something."

She reached into her pocket and threw something at Yuri. He cradled it in his hands and looked down at the object. It was an empty, translucent salt shaker. The silver top twinkled from the hallway light. Yuri felt the side ridges as he tumbled it in his hand.

"Chefs have a tradition. If a cook has a salt shaker in their pocket while cooking, the food will turn out good," Isabel said. "I know I'm not a world-famous chef yet, but I think it still works for me."

Yuri looked back into her deep blue eyes. Her blonde hair was slightly frizzed from the Florida humidity.

"So if I have this on me, I'll skate better?"

"I don't know. Maybe it doesn't translate to ice skating. You'll be the first to know."

Yuri nodded. "Thanks, I guess. I need to sleep."

"Yuri?"

"Yes?

Isabel paused and took a breath. "I really hope you win tomorrow. This is my first time seeing you skate in person."

Yuri narrowed his eyes slightly. A small fire ignited in his chest. "You better watch me closely. I'm going to skate the best program you'll see in your life."

Isabel smiled. "You better. I have money on you."

Yuri snorted a laugh. "Whatever," he said as he began to close the door.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Isabel."

As the door slammed shut, Isabel covered her mouth in surprise. A clock on the wall behind her ticked away the seconds she stared at the banana yellow door. The Russian skater had disappeared, but Isabel tried to process his words. She could not believe what just came from his lips.

After a pause, she twirled around and started to skip down the hallway.

Yuri had never called her by her name before. It was a step in the right direction.

* * *

 **How are you feeling about the characters? In character enough. Is the OC decent?**

 **Skate America is next! Who will win or lose? Any upsets? Any emotional revelations? What do you want to happen?**

 **Please review and leave as many comments as you can. Only you can help me make this story better, and I want something fun and unique for everyone. Tell your friends to read as well. I'll give shoutouts to let you know that I see you reviewing!**

 **Thank you so much. See you soon!**


	13. Skate America: Short

Amway Center in Orlando was just a bus length away from the Interstate. The large blue-and-grey building sloped on the sides to meet the sidewalk filled with skating fans. The sun battered the ground with heat like the sweat rolling off jogger's faces onto the nuclear concrete.

Inside, the air was much cooler. The ice sparkled underneath the bright light hanging from the rafters of the tall building. The rink was encompassed by a short white wall while the judges sat behind center ice. A loud buzz filled the arena as fans traversed the walkways to the seating. The air had an aroma of hot coffee and baby powder as the orange ice resurfacer hummed across the ice.

From the entrance tunnel, Yuri Plisetsky was making waves. Cameras flashed and reporters trailed him like cops chasing a bank robber. The blonde Russian strolled through the tunnel in a surprising outfit. A pinstripe black suit clung tightly to him, with matching pants crinkling with every step he took in his black loafers. The black tie divided the alabaster dress shirt pressed onto his torso. His lengthy blonde hair was straight and neat down his neck while he cropped it slightly to avoid covering either of his sea-foam eyes.

The press were shocked to see how different Yuri looked. Normally, he trudged with his head down and Team Russia hoodie draped over him to the locker rooms. He paid no attention to any of the reporters, and he had earbuds perched into his small ears. This competition was a different image.

His entourage was different, as well. Victor had a typical Red Team Russia tracksuit with sunglasses. Yuuri had a businessman persona with gelled back hair, a black suit and a yellow tie to match. He looked like a basketball team coach with a pencil perched on his ear and his phone stuffed in his breast pocket. The new addition that surprised people was the random blonde girl, roughly Yuri's height. Isabel had on purple high heels and a short yellow dress, showcasing her legs. Her hair was neatly cropped in her pixie-cut style, not a split end or cowlick to be seen. Sunglasses sat on the ridge of her nose, completing her appearance as she waved at the press.

An older, short woman with auburn hair and wrinkled face turned towards a camera as Yuri walked past. "Leona Simpson, reporting live from Orlando," she said to the camera. "I'm here seeing a very odd sight. Yuri Plisetsky, one of the most well-known skaters in the world today, has walked into Amway Center looking very different from usual."

The reporter took her stubby arms and parted a group of photographers away from her path. They fell away as she thrusted a microphone forward. Yuri happened to walk by at the right moment and found the reporter nearly blocking his path.

"Mister Plisetsky," Leona said. "Why did you change up your typical pre-skate attire?"

Yuri nearly opened his mouth to tell the reporter off. She was the annoying entertainment reporter for a big news agency in America. They were always the worst.

However, noticing Victor's wide eyes examining him, he knew this was a test. He had to make a good impression for the rest of the season. It annoyed Yuri to no end. Once the press found a talker, they dogged that skater like termites biting at wood. Yuri had a small flicker of hope in his stomach that Victor was correct and his improved relations with the public would manifest in skating. Most likely, it was just so Victor could get a laugh or two.

Yuri strained his eyes to not roll as he gave a small smile. "Just wanted to impress you, Misses Simpson," Yuri said.

A few people laughed as the reporter gave a smile. "That's nice, but why? Seriously?"

Just as Yuri opened his mouth, a blur of color rushed up to him. Two female fans started to grope him around his shoulders and squeal in his face.

"Oh my god, it's you?" One girl screeched in a nasally voice.

"It is! Yuri, we love you. I'm you're biggest fan."

"Can we see you after the program?"

"Can you teach me Russian?"

Yuri turned his head to Isabel. She shrugged and mouthed a quick reminder to Yuri about their practices with fans. Victor nodded as Yuri held a sigh in his lungs.

"You two are my fans?" Yuri asked.

The two girls nodded.

Yuri gave another fake smile. "Sorry, but I'm way too...boring for you two to see after the program. How about a picture instead?"

A giggle and a snapshot from a phone later, the girls were pushed away by security. Yuri hustled forward to leave the pack of press. His squad followed him, pushing past the media.

* * *

In the locker room, Yuri collapsed on a bench. It was a private dressing room with a large mirror and tall brick-red cubby for his uniform and skates. Baby blue walls surrounded the group as the rushed in. Yuuri slammed the door shut as he slung the duffel bag onto the linoleum tile in front of Yuri. Victor began to lay out some makeup tools on the bench while Isabel leaned on a leather office chair next to the mirror.

"How the hell do you not get exhausted doing that?" Yuri asked at Victor, his chest heaving.

Victor grinned and sat next to Yuri. "Years of practice. Try not to run into the dressing room next time. It looked like you were being chased by a pack of wolves."

"In a way, I was," Yuri said.

Yuuri rubbed his hands and looked down at the Russian skaters. "All the stuff is here. I'll leave it to you two to prepare. We'll see you by the rink. Isabel, let's go."

Isabel blinked and stared at Yuri. "You ready, Yurio?"

He looked up at Isabel and glared at her. "Not really. I have to put the outfit on and have my hair fixed up an-."

"I meant mentally."

Victor turned and gave Yuri a questioning look. He had never thought to ask Yuri such an inane question. Program prep was always just a wardrobe check and a push onto the ice. Yuri did not chat during any of their warm-ups.

Meanwhile, Yuri had a tinge of nerves he had not felt forever. Even when he was a kid, he felt a comfort from the ice that soothed him. It was as if an angel had reached down and guided him as he bobbed and weaved on the slick surfaces of frozen water. A spiritual connection attracted him to the ice like a monk taking a pilgrimage _ to Reaching out of his comfort zone with the reporters and fans shook him slightly, but he really wanted this performance to be flawless. Winning gold was not difficult for Yuri. He did not want to be lectured about missed flips or turns by Victor. He hated the look of pity Yuuri gave him whenever someone was critical to him. It put Yuri in a hard place. He could not argue back at Victor since he was right. He could not yell at Yuuri since the press would gobble it up like babies drinking lukewarm formula.

He really wanted Isabel's first time seeing him skate in person to be special. Anything less than flawless was a failure to him.

Yurio glared at the blonde girl. "I'm going to skate the best damn program you've ever seen in your life."

* * *

"On the ice. Skate America silver medalist, Yuri Plisetsky of Russia.

The skin tight black suit donned sapphire diamonds that were sewn into the threads of the suit. The white skates flashed with every leg stroke and contrasted the obsidian fabric that shined on the ice. The cool air swirled in Yuri's lungs as he skated to center ice. His face was immaculate, clear of any blemishes. Eye liner brought out his thin eyebrows and complemented his eyes. His hair, usually long and unkempt, was bundled up in a single braid down his left side.

The crowd roared as he looked around the arena. The scoreboard above him flickered with images of the cheering crowd. His fan club sat next to the scorer's tables (a worthy strategy to push the judges to give him a higher score). They wore matching blue sweaters with a Russian flag in the middle. However, what made Yuri gag were the wigs of his hair that the fans planted on themselves. Knowing Victor would kill him if he forgot, Yuri took one of his small hands and waved at the crowd. Like a conductor signalling a symphony, an orchestra of squeals and shouts of adoration came from the section.

"Look at that," A male sports commentator said from the sidelines. "Plisetsky just waved at his fans. That never happens."

"Right, Bob," Yuri recognized the brash voice of Leona Simpson. "I guess they must really appreciate them."

"Something that other people should do more."

"Like when you're married to someone for twelve years? That kind of appreciation?"

"More like 'the bailing someone's sister out of jail kind of appreciation,' Leona."

Yuri spun around and stopped at the center of the slick rink. He forgot the scores from the previous skaters. He never focused on the scores he had to beat. He performed and hoped it earned enough points.

He whipped his head around, as if he was shaking off an annoying fly. Finally, he peered at a group of people on the sidelines. Yuuri leaned on the railing at the end of the rink by the kiss and cry seat station. His glasses were fogged up, but his smile was small and wiry. He sat in silence as the two next to him made Yuri huff with embarrassment.

Victor was shouting at the top of his lungs in Russian. He was waving his hands towards Yuri like he was having a seizure. "Davai, moy malen'kiy tigr. Ty poluchil eto!"

Isabel bounced up and down next to him, her blonde hair waving with the momentum. She turned to Victor. "What does that mean? All of what you said?"

Victor patted the girl on the head. "Davai. You have to shout it out. It basically means 'come on' in Russian."

"Davai, Yurio," Isabel shouted, her hands cupped around her mouth.

Yuri took a deep breath. The crowd grew silent, only the rumble of the air conditioning pilfering through the vents filled the arena with sound. Yuri had no nerves as the cool air of the ice enraptured him like a hypnotist.

Staring up at the jumbotron, the soft bells of "Love is Blue" by Paul Maniot began to blare from the speakers. Yuri scoffed to himself at the song choice by Victor.

With a flash of his skate, he pushed off to begin the routine.

* * *

"Damn it. Damn it. Damn it."

Yuri was smacking his fist on a table on the wooden dressing room table. He kept shouting as his fist grew red with the punishment he dished out at the innocent stand. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were glistening in anger.

The performance was solid for anybody not named Yuri Plisetsky. The first half of the routine was mundane almost passionless from Yuri. The program, devised by Victor, was supposed to be a story of newfound love. With the first combinations of spins and twirls, the crowd was nevertheless enchanted by Yuri. Skating past the crowd, Yuri noticed Victor's face. He had a stony, almost disappointed expression. He knew Yuri hated the program, and Yuri knew Victor was upset by his feelings.

Going into the last half of the short program, Yuri began with his first quad and nailed it. Then, he moved into a triple salchow and flip combination. Coming out of the salchow, his ankle buckled and he had to pull up in order to miss faceplanting with the steel ice underneath him. Aborting the triple flip, he grew frustrated, thinking he looked like a moron just skating with his hands waved in front of him like a flying angel. Some people whispered. It only lasted for three seconds, but the dead air suffocated the young skater.

As "Love is Blue" crescendoed, Yuri went in for a double axel. On the dismount, the air rushed out of his lungs as he slipped on the dismount. He again had to slow up for fear of hitting the ground. His form was unsure, but the release from the spin was enough to propel him to finish the tight spiral.

Yuri grew angry with everything around him. He was angry at himself for messing up and not having confidence on any of his jumps. He was angry at Victor for giving him a program about romantic love. He was angry at Yuuri for having a stupid, condescending voice about how he did great when he knew he did not.

By the time the program finished, Yuri performed a seamless triple lutz and loop combination to halt the program. It was enough to salvage the score, yet not his ego. The crowd roared, but Yuri knew a pity cheer when he heard one. His head down, he stormed towards the ice and shook of Isabel's pat like dirt on his shoulder.

"Here come the scores," the announcer said from his desk.

The numbers illuminated on the jumbotron underneath Yuri's face.

82.48.

"So the overall total so far puts Plisetsky up front, clinging to the lead."

Yuri got up and walked like a stalker was tailing him to the lockers, not even bothering to look at the rest of the scores.

 _1\. Yuri Plisetsky (RUS)-82.48_

 _2\. Phichit Chualanot (THA)-82.09_

 _3\. Georgi Popovich (RUS)-81.53_

 _4\. Jake Agreste (USA)-81.53_

 _5\. Emil Nekola (CZR)-80.08_

 _6\. Guang Hong (CHN)-77.69_

As Yuri held his head in his hands in the empty room, he wiped away the sweat hiding in his long blonde locks. Looking in the mirror, he sighed at his frustrated state.

Phichit had a surprisingly good performance. Yuuri had a measured standing ovation for him as the cheerful Asian man did his famous "Shall We Skate" routine. Yuri thought it had gotten old after two years, but the crowd loved it. It was not a challenging routine, but one Phichit knew he would nail.

What made Yuri gag was at how Georgi had anything worth a decent performance. The melodramatic Russian man with thick black eyeliner and pointed turpentine hair looked like he had been in a barfight as he sprawled around the ice to George Michael's "Careless Whisper." It went as well as anyone expected, with a few tears racing down his face for good measure. Yuri heard on Twitter that he had been through another nasty breakup three months ago. It all made sense to him.

The two surprises where Emil and the rookie. Emil, the bearded European, dazzled the crowd with a difficult program. The skater had excellent air time on all of his jumps, including a perfectly executed triple flip. He even attempted a triple axel, although he had to cheat the end of the jump. The score deductions were overriden by the points garnered by the attempt. By the time the last chords of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" ended, the audience and judge's appreciated the bulky man's program.

It was the hotshot American that got the crowd excited. The skinny dirty blonde came out for his first major competition. In a tight fitting olive suit with buttons undone by his neck, he smiled at the crowd and did a lap around the rink. With a finger snap, he went off skating, Hall and Oates "You Make My Dreams" following him. The new skater did not have the hardest routine, but his disarming speed on the skates made the jump distance massive. Even Victor nodded in approval as the sixteen-year-old covered major ground on his jumps. When he finished, he gave a wink at one of the television cameras. His vertical and rotations needed improvement, but it was enough to give him a surprising third place.

Not that Yuri cared about any of this competition. He was not perfect. However, a small twinge of guilt invaded his brain. He told Isabel that his performance would be perfect, and he couldn't deliver. Yuri kept smacking himself, trying to rid the thought.

No, I'm not guilty because of that. I'm upset because I sucked, not because I didn't impress someone, Yuri thought to himself as he glared at his reflection in the mirror.

His inner debate was cancelled when the door opened. Isabel slowly bumped through the opening and closed it behind her. She held a dull, red apple in her hand as she kept her gaze away from Yuri.

"What do you want?" Yuri asked in a short breath.

Isabel scratched her arm and walked up to him. He felt like he was about to scream at any moment. This was the girl he was most angry at right now. Not only had she given Victor motivation to keep his program instead of scrapping it for something else, but his disappointment in himself for not showing her how great he was made him infuriated. Ever since she had showed up, his skating was off. Hell, everything about his life was off. At least his time Detroit was boring without her. At worst, he would have no friends to worry about as opposed to this girl in front of him.

"Victor wants to give you space," she said. "He knows you're not happy."

"Damn right," Yuri said. "That piz'da gave me that shitty program. He knew I didn't want to do it. He kept pressing me more and more."

"What was wrong with th-."

"Nothing, except that it was a fucking love story," Yuri said. He paced around the room, buzzing around like a drunk fly in the small room. "Love is Blue is a love song. It's about new found love. I don't skate love stories, but that bastard made me do it anyway. The program isn't that hard, but I can't skate to that shit. He thinks that I'm his pig of a boyfriend, all lovey-dovey and staring someone in the eyes for hours on end, but he's wrong."

Isabel held a finger up. "So you don't like it because you don't feel that emotion? You don't know about newfound love?"

Yuri noticed the downtrodden expression on Isabel's face. It was unusual for the hyper, peppy girl to look like this. It was a face Yuri had never seen, and he felt that spark of guilt light ablaze in his chest.

Again, those doubts in his head played out in front of him. Victor was obviously playing his emotions against him, hoping this program would bring out some hidden feelings.

It was not happening, whether Victor wanted it or not.

So why couldn't he just say no to Isabel's question? Why did the clock above the door tick away endless seconds of silence between them? Why did she look at him like a death row inmate waiting for execution?

If Victor had asked him that question, he would give a quick, vulgar response. With the bubbly blonde standing in front of him, he could not raise his vocal chords to give a resounding response.

"Why do you have an apple?" Yuri asked, trying to change the discussion.

Yuri gave a silent prayer as Isabel took the bait. She held up the apple at him. "Victor said you needed fruit before the Long Program in a few hours. He thought you wouldn't want to see him, so he sent me."

Yuri snatched the apple. "Uh...thanks. Listen, it's not your fault that I did a bad job out there."

Isabel scratched her neck and chuckled nervously. "I wasn't blaming myself, but thanks. I thought you did good, but I guess I don't know that much yet."

The apple crunched under Yuri's teeth as he swallowed a chunk of the apple. Juices ran down his finger as he squeezed the fruit like a stress ball. Isabel watched him chew it in silence.

Yuri gulped and took a deep breath. "Victor has been bugging me about not having passion with my programs. I can do all of the stuff, but I don't have...the power of an Eros in me, whatever that means."

"The greek god of love?"

Yuri stared at the girl. "Is that what that means?"

Isabel blushed a little bit while bouncing on her tiptoes. Yuri noticed it was a habit of hers that she did periodically. "I took Greek Mythology a few years ago. In Roman mythology, he's known as Cupid."

"I know Cupid," Yuri said. He huffed while taking a small bite from the half-eaten apple. "So he wants me to act like Cupid?" He said with his mouth full.

Isabel shrugged. "You're more like an Apollo, honestly. I don't know why he would want you to be an Eros."

Yuri shook his head. "Whatever. I have to forget my shitty coach for now. The Free is coming up."

He threw the apple core into a metal trash bin underneath the table. Putting his hands on his hips, he looked back at Isabel.

"I need to concentrate. I know I promised you a perfect routine, and you're going to get it."

Isabel smiled and twirled a strand of hair in her finger. "Ookie-dookie. Does this mean you have passion for the next routine?"

Yuri thought for a second. The next routine was an emotional one, but for a different treason than most people thought. It was a new side of Yuri, a less cocky and more humble side. A less showy and more subtle performance than people expected. Disappointed as he was with his short program, he knew he could knock the Free out of the park.

After all, the free program was about his life.

Yuri nodded. Isabel took a step back as she noticed the steely gaze he gave her. It reminded her that flames could burned green as his eyes flashed with desire. If only he looked at her with that expression at home.

"I promise," Yuri said. "You better take pictures, Isabel. When I'm done, these losers won't know what hit them."

* * *

 **Happy New Year!**

 **Didn't want to do all of skate america in one go. Don't worry, next chapter isn't super long.**

 **So what do you like so far? Dislike? Pacing good? How can it be more entertaining? Let me know!**

 **Please review as much and as constructively as you can. You have a direct path in making this a great fic, and I don't want to let you down.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	14. Skate America: Free

The night before the Free Skate program was calm. Yuri sat by himself in the spacious art-deco styled hotel room. Linen air fresheners sat hidden in the corner by a tall wall lamp. The white curtains obscured the bright lights of Downtown Orlando. Sitting on the bed, he fell backwards onto the stone-hard pillows. Closing his eyes, he felt the light breeze from the air conditioner sweep over his silk pajama pants and matching shirt. The hum of a latin drum and cheese grater shaking in harmony ounded through the thin walls of the hotel.

Yuri sighed. Sleep would escape him again.

* * *

Yuuri was calm as he sipped the virgin Strawberry Daiquiri. Drinking was off limits until after the competition had ended. He sat in the corner of the small Mexican restaurant with a bowl of nachos crumbled and torn in front of him. A salsa band played on a wooden stage in front of a bay window overlooking Church Street. A golden dish was ravaged next to the bowl, flakes of spared guacamole strewn on it. Phichit, the Thai skater, sat next to him with a glowing smile on his face. The tan man's short black hair was covered in gel. His gray t-shirt and jeans fit snug on him while he stretched in the leather chair.

"You need to come back, Yuuri," Phichit said. "You were Russian Yuri's biggest inspiration."

Yuuri crunched another nacho in his mouth. "I know," he said in a muffled voice. "Victor thinks that he found another inspiration, though."

Phichit laughed. "The American?"

Yuuri blushed in embarrassment as he looked in front of him. Isabel, still in her dress from earlier, clasped Victor's hips while the Russian man sashayed to the beat of the song. Trumpets exploded in fierce latin chords while the two rocked back in forth like a tug-of-war fight on the dance floor. Apparently, Victor had sneaked in a few sips of vodka and ginger ale. His tolerance for alcohol was surprisingly low.

When the wave of warm euphoria hit his stomach, he grabbed the Detroit teenager and announced that he would teach her salsa dancing. Isabel was more than happy to comply.

As the pair danced in a messy battle of left feet and bumped into other couples, Yuuri looked down at the yellow tablecloth. "I don't know why I can't drink, but he can."

Phichit patted Yuuri on the back. "Look at my Instagram. You'll find a few reasons for why you can't drink."

Yuuri turned towards Phichit. "I think Victor is wrong about Isabel. I mean...I like her and she's nice and Yuri is actually tolerating her now, but..."

"She's not the one?"

Yuuri nodded. "The one to give Yuri that spark?"

"No, the one to marry him," Phichit said with a chuckle. "Yes, the one to inspire him. If that skate was supposed to be his version of new love, then it's not lasting long, Yuuri."

Yuuri slumped himself in the leather chair. Looking at Isabel and Victor, they were throwing themselves around the dance floor with Victor shouting in Russian. They were a funny sight, but Yuuri squinted his eyes in concern.

"Yurio doesn't know anything about that stuff yet," Yuuri said. "I don't even know about it, yet."

"Love?"

Yuuri looked at Phichit. "It's insane. Remember where I was three years ago? And now I'm getting married. Married to him," Yuuri pointed at Victor who twirled Isabel around like a merry-go-round.

Phichit patted his friend on the back. "And you wouldn't want him any other way. Yurio will be fine, though. If he can't skate about love, just find out what he can skate."

"Anger and bitterness?" Yuuri asked sarcastically.

"Yup," Phichit said. "It's his forte. There is a saying in America. If it ain't broke, d-."

"Don't fix it," Yuuri finished.

Phichit smiled. "We heard that a lot in Detroit, didn't we?"

Yuuri took another nacho.

* * *

Blonde locks were braided up in a loose bun as Yuri smoothed out the black skate suit with encrusted gems. Looking out at the ice, Emil Nekola had just taken a quick bow after his routine. The crowd in Orlando was easy to please, Yuri learned. He could fall face first three times on the ice during his program, and Emil would receive a standing ovation. The bearded skater seemed pleased with his performance while he traversed the ice towards the kiss and cry seating area. Looking over at Yuri, he winked at the boy and waved like a princess to the rest of the arena.

Yuri rolled his eyes and paced down the side alley next to the rink. He was due up, and he was the last person to skate for the men. The cold air massaged his pale face while he moved slowly towards the entrance to the rink. Putting a hand on the wall, he leaned on the white barrier surrounding the rink. On the jumbotron, Emil held a gentle smile while looking up at the score.

"Shouldn't be a bad score." A soft voice said.

Yuri turned around. A boy with a cheerful grin showcasing his pearly teeth stood a hair taller than Yuri. His American flag sweatshirt clung to his broad shoulders like a straightjacket. He was slim, and his dirty blonde hair was ruffled like he had just been in the shower. His grass green eyes reflected the sheen of the ice basking in the spotlights perched above.

Yuri narrowed his eyes. "You're the new skater."

The boy stuck out a hand. "Jake Agreste, rookie at your service. You skated against my coach, right?"

Yuri looked at the hand like it was a poisonous sea slug. After a second of hesitation, Jake lowered his hand. Yuri was not in the mood for pleasantries. The American boy reared his hand back and scratched his head.

"So...you're going on now?"

Yuri looked up at the scoreboard. Emil clapped to himself on the large screen as his score was revealed.

170.5. A very solid score for the Czech man.

The scoreboard flashed the final results before Yuri's free program.

1\. Jake Agreste (USA)-268.71

2\. Phichit Chulanot (THA)-263.88

3\. Emil Nekola (CZE)-250.58

Yuri admitted that he received a massive dose of shädenfreud when Georgi Popovich choked in his free program. Skating to the eternally popular "The Prayer," by Andrea Bocelli, the annoying Russian man was doing well until halfway through the program. As he was jumping into a triple axel, somebody in the audience caught his eye. He seemed shocked at whatever the sight was, because he stared up at the crowd. Yuri followed his line of sight and noticed a tall brunette kissing another woman in the audience. Yuri learned it was his present girlfriend. The shock of learning about her cheating on him and being a lesbian at the same time caused Georgi to twist his ankle and smack his side onto the ice.

He scooted himself off the ice, unable to cope with the heartbreak. Yuri knew it was trending everywhere, but he would check later that day.

Meanwhile, Phichit sashayed around the ice to "Nessun Dorma" and did a good job. He only cheated one jump, but his revolutions were getting tighter every time he skated. When he finished, the crowd stood and cheered. The Thai man rushed off the ice and hugged a hamster plushie in excitement, his face illuminating in joy when he saw his personal best 181.79 flash on the screen. Yuri made a mental note to watch Phichit in the Cup of China. He was getting too good to just ignore.

As for the rookie, Jake Agreste stunned with a finishing triple toe loop and salchow combination ending his skating rendition of "Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic" by The Police. The new skater continued to get good distance on his jumps, and he was a showman to the end, winking at the crowd and blowing kisses when it was done. What pissed Yuri off was not just the unearned confidence of the American, but the score the judges received.

187.18.

Those damn judges.

Sure, he did a decent job, but how did that dumb blonde manage a score like that in his first show? It had to be the judges being paid off. They were swayed by the home crowd, and they were pressured into giving an American a decent score. Homeland advantage was not an official term, but Yuri knew it when he saw it.

"Don't talk to me," Yuri barked at Jake. "I need to get ready."

Jake took a step back. "Oh...I'm sorry. I don't know what your pregame traditi-."

"It's not a pregame, idiot," Yuri said. "It's a program."

Yuri whipped around and headed towards the opening of the ice rink, leaving a flustered rookie in the dust.

At the opening, he looked over at Victor. He leaned on the barrier next to him and tapped Yuri on the shoulder.

"Whatever you say, save it till later," Yuri grunted.

Victor looked at Yuri with a small smile. "I just want to say good luck. And do your best out there. Que sera, sera."

Yuri turned around and faced Victor. "What?"

"It's Spanish. Isabel told me about it when we were at a restaurant."

Yuri felt his heart take a small leap. In all of his inner turmoil, he forgot about the blonde girl. Perking up, he whipped his head around the arena. "Where is she? She's here, right?"

Victor chuckled. "Calm down, Yurio. She's over there."

Victor pointed to the side. Yuri looked over and could not help the small smirk. About twenty feet away from his spot by the ice, Isabel pulled Yuuri by his jacket sleeve towards a seat in the lower bowl of the stadium. Her tight crimson dress sparkled slightly from sequins around the seams. Her hair was straight, and her face had a bright radiance like an excited puppy. Yuuri stumbled behind the bouncing blonde while carrying a bucket of butter-soaked popcorn.

Turning her head, she froze in place. Their gazes met, and Isabel jumped up and waved at him.

"Davai, Yurio!" She shouted as she waved harder. "Mister Katsuki, say it."

She bumped Yuuri on his back, making him grimace in pain. "Davai," Yuuri shouted out at Yuri. "There, I said it. Can we just sit down before I pass out?"

A soft comfort encapsulated Yuri's heart when he heard those words. Usually, only Otabek said that to him. However, it was even more comforting coming from that girl.

Again, Yuri had to smack himself. What the hell was he doing by the ice right now? Smiling like a nervous schoolgirl would not help his image at all.

Yuri felt the smile disappear from his face when Victor chuckled behind him. "She's a funny girl, isn't she?"

Yuri scoffed. "Nope. I just like her torturing your lame-ass boyfriend. You could've settled for more, Victor."

"Then why are you blushing?"

Yuri put his hands up to cover his cheeks. His porcelain skin tinged by a salmon tone. "It's cold."

Victor smiled. "Be honest with yourself, Yurio."

Yuri looked back up at Isabel. When it came to skating, he always wanted to do the best for himself. Skating was a fruit he could not stop drinking. But why did he do it? Those hours stretching by the ice while the ice resurfacer cruised by appeared in Yuri's mind.

Those times alone, by himself on the ice.

In Russia, he longed for the end of Yakov's brutal sessions. After practices, he would wander around the ice. Not skating. Not practicing. He would wander like a lost snaggletoothed tiger on a tundra. Hours flashed by like lightning on the Siberian plains. He tried not to think much during those periods, but the pressures got to him. After all, Yuri was only a teenager, and he would rather die than have anyone see him break down in anxiety. Anxiety was for wimps like that Japanese pig named Katsuki.

When he did break, he asked himself why he was skating. He didn't care about impressing anybody. He didn't even care about the medals. So why was he throwing away any chance at friends, family, and a social life to twirl around on solid water? He never got along with anybody save for Otabek. Yuri searched for more to his life than grazing the ice with skates in front of the world, like a puppeteer showing off his latest creations. He never decided much of anything from his diet to bedtime.

Yuri told himself he liked solitude as the crowd began to cheer for him in the rink. Looking back over at Victor, he began to understand his feelings.

Yuri felt alone. Not lonely. Alone.

There was a difference, Yuri thought to himself. He was not the depressing, sad poetry high school writer he saw in English classes in Detroit. Yuri, however, was alone. In the corner of the cafeteria to nights watching the depressing local news on the couch, there was nobody and nothing to skate for.

Except for her. Every time her annoying voice or annoying laugh or the annoying way she seemed to skip everywhere or god-knows-what-else is annoying about her, he no longer felt alone in that city of Detroit.

He promised her a performance she would never forget.

Rearing up at full height, Yuri pushed himself forward. Landing on the ice, he turned around. "By the way, thanks for the apple."

Victor frowned. "Huh? Yurio, are you speaking American slang now?"

Yuri sighed. He needed to hurry up onto the center ice. "The apple, Victor. You sent Isabel up with an apple yesterday."

Victor blinked as fast as falling snow on a stormy mountain. "I didn't send her to give you an apple."

"She gave me an apple yesterday," Yuri rushed out of his mouth. "She said you told her to do it."

Victor shrugged. "I didn't send her up with anything. I guess she did it herself."

Yuri shook his head. He would have to ask her about that later.

Gliding to center ice, the crowd began to roar. The announcer shouted out his voice over the intercom.

All of the world melted away. Yuri propped up his ankle and prepared for takeoff. No need to rush and deplete his energy. Make sure to stick the landing on the quads. Full extension on the last triple toe flip. That was a tough one at the very end.

* * *

When the saxophone sounded, Yuri shoved himself forward, beginning the performance.

"An Englishman In New York." A fitting song choice in a number of ways. Yuri was neither of those titles, but in a way, he was all of them. He was a Russian living in Detroit, Michigan. The program was not extremely challenging to Yuri. Once again, most of the jumps towards the end with a few wrenches at the beginning.

Snaking around the ice, he elevated himself. The world became a blend of pinks and reds as he twisted in the air.

The ice crunched underneath him as he slid forward past the jump.

"You can hear it in my accent when it talk..."

Yuri felt the breeze float past him as he went for a double axel. Landing, he twirled like the spinning wheels on Victor's car driving him around the city. Yuri still had a hard time deciphering the odd green signs with stark-white letters glowing in the darkness of the long nights. The bus system alway made him nervous. He still had no idea what the maps at some of stops meant. Why did they not measure things with the metric system? Why were Americans so talkative in public? He was an alien in this strange world of factories and dilapidated buildings.

Breaking out of the spin, Yuri grew warmer, more light as he relaxed his muscles. He was back in Russia, skating for his grandfather. The happy old man loved to go out and see him skate by himself. It was a happy dance as he sauntered around the ice with his routine. His grandfather always clapped and appeared joyful, like his favorite football team scored a goal. When Yuri skated, nothing else existed in the world to his grandfather.

As Yuri bent back a leg and grabbed his right skate, he dipped into another twirl. His grandfather always said the Biellmann Spin was his favorite move.

His grandfather's bushy beard always fascinated him when he was a child. The scruff hair made the man seem fifty years older than he was at the time. Yuri was upset at himself for not being able to grow facial hair. Then again, Isabel said that he would look weird with facial hair.

Hold on a second, Yuri thought as he left the spin and straightened out onto the ice.

Why am I thinking about her again? He thought in a split second before a supersonic two-foot spin.

The world rushed by like a hurricane as he etched tight circles on the ice. Faster. The banners with his name on it in Cyrillic and English blended with his fan clubs blonde wigs. The faceless crowd remained mute to him as the world disappeared in a mush of vibrant violets and pinks.

Releasing from the spin, he regained his footing and zoomed across the ice. Suddenly, his brain switched back on the noise. He noticed the hyper crowd mixing with the depressing song. The music melted back into his brain, making him feel as light as the low fog that sneaked through Downtown Detroit every day from the lake.

The saxophone solo began.

Yuri pushed himself around like a snow flurry and whipped into a triple toe flip.

Land.

A combination with a triple lutz.

The crowd cheered again as he skated past Victor. He nodded in approval as Yuri buckled his legs again.

Another jump completed. There was no screw ups this time.

Not when I promised her, Yuri thought.

Damn it. There I went again, Yuri thought Shut up. She's just...

She was a girl that would not leave him alone. Just like Victor was a coach that would not leave him alone. Yuuri was a competitor that would not leave him alone. Otabek would never leave him alone. The only other person that would not leave him alone was his grandfather.

Was that family? A bunch of people that don't leave you alone?

His lithe body flung itself into the air, the desolate sound of the saxophone covering for the lost scratches on the ice. Weightless. Yuri felt like the world was beneath him with every jump.

When he landed the quadruple loop, the crowd went crazy.

The last segment of his program confronted him. He felt like he had to do something big. He had to show off and prove how good he was. Simply following the blueprint by Victor would not do anymore for him. He wanted this performance to be special. Not for Victor or Yuuri or himself.

As he skated around the ice for his final segment, he glanced up. There she was, smiling from ear-to-ear. She held up a thumb, mouthing what he assumed was the word "davai" in her shitty, broken Russian.

For her. Isabel. That stupid girl that would not leave him alone. He did not want her to leave him alone.

Yuri almost gasped to himself on the ice.

There was no denying it anymore.

In the heat of the moment, Yuri bolted down to center ice. He wanted everyone to pay special attention to what he wanted to do next. If he was going to lose, might as well lose with passion. As the song entered its final segment, he remembered the panhandling drummer on the street on his way to school. The rhythm the beatings made on the narrow, cracked sidewalk electrified his heart like a defibrillator.

All of the anger, frustration, the nights crying to himself because he missed Russia and his grandfather and just how _lonely_ he felt were collapsing on him. The weird stares and quiet sips of coffee in the frigid Detroit winter caught up to him.

Yuri pursed his thin lips together, blinking away a bead of sweat from his eye. He leaned his body down slightly and sprang up from the outside skate edge behind him. Spinning in the air, his arms closed deep into his chest while he held his breath. His form had a confidence that showed he had done this thousands of times in practice.

A gasp. Victor covered his mouth, waiting for the fall.

Yuri nailed the ice with the outside edge of his skate.

A quadruple toe flip.

Yuri charged forward. He went up again and twirled for a triple axel spin.

Victor laughed to himself. None of this was on the program. He turned towards Yuuri in the stands. He had his mouth covered with a leather glove, looking like he was going to throw up his popcorn. Neither of them planned for anything like this, but Yuri did what he wanted to do.

When Yuri landed the triple axel, he barely noticed the crowd shouting in a frenzy. People were standing up and cheering like a throng of revelers in a New Years' party at midnight. His fans waved Russian flags while hugging each other, celebrating the insane performance.

Yuri, still oblivious, clenched his teeth and took another deep breath. He had never done it before, but he would nail it this time. He wanted to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. Both of their faces. He would smack Victor right in his teeth for all of this pain he went through. He deserved it for dragging him to that awful city and being the awful coach that would let him stay in his apartment for free and ask about his day.

"Be yourself, no matter what they say," the lyric whispered in the air.

The skates scarred the ice one more time as Yuri flung himself into the air. He cut through the sky like a twister, the aching in his legs giving way to the bliss of zero gravity.

Pulled down to earth, Yuri braced himself for whatever came next.

The skate slammed onto the ice like two attracted magnets. Yuri's arms stayed firm as his balance remained intact.

A quadruple lutz.

"I'm an Englishman in New York."

Yuri finished the program with the scheduled triple flip and loop combination he was supposed to do earlier. Nailing the jumps, he circled around the rink for a few seconds. As the music ended, he mentally told his ears to prepare themselves.

His final pose was his arms crossed defiantly underneath the giant scoreboard. He tried his best to not gasp for air, taking in short, measured breaths through his slightly parted lips.

The audience cheered like screaming banshees. His fans were in the midst of a section-wide heart attack, jumping up and down as if they won the lottery. The rest of the crowd waved banners and posters of him around like a matador egging on a bull. The screaming filled the entire arena, bursting through the vents and hallways of the arena. Yuri would have not been surprised if all of Orlando heard the shouts of glee. A few people hugged each other, and the judges seemed beside themselves.

Yuri turned to what he actually cared about at the moment. Victor was hopping in place as if he was a hyper child on a pogo stick. He was laughing, a tear or two rolling down his cheeks. Victor was proud of Yuri in so many ways, from performing as well as he did to nailing his signature move. Yuri almost rolled his eyes. His coach was always melodramatic.

He may still get lectured about going against the scheduled program, but he could stand that admonishment for once.

His eyes flickered up to the stands. Yuuri was giving a standing ovation, the bucket of popcorn long forgotten on the floor. He also let out a small spout of laughter. The triple axel was one of Yuuri's favorite moves, and he nailed that as well.

Finally, he looked over to the inspiration for his quadruple lutz.

She wasn't crying like Victor, nor was she clapping like Yuuri. She was quiet for once in her life. Yuri never thought she would be speechless, but Isabel stood with a phone in one hand like she just witnessed a shooting star. Her face reflected a calm, childlike wonderment. She was awed to no end, and Yuri was the object that she could not tear her royal blue eyes from. He was beautiful on the ice, and the pain he expressed was not lost on her. She saw through the showmanship and shouting crowd.

The routine was about him. He was a legal alien from another land.

They kept eye contact for an eternity. Crowd cheers and judge scoring vanished into thin air. It was just Yuri and Isabel staring at each other, two random strangers understanding for the first time what they meant to the other.

Finally, Isabel let out a laugh. Smiling, she grabbed Yuuri's hand and thrusted it up into the air like a prize fighter winning a boxing match.

"Davai, Yurio!" Isabel shouted.

She gave him a quick wink. Then, she pulled on Yuuri's sleeve. The Japanese man broke out of his trance of clapping and began to fight through the row of people around them. Isabel dragged him through the crowd to the kiss and cry.

In that instant of the wink, Yuri stood on the ice, as frozen as the large war monument by Campus Martius Park. Thinking back to what he felt during the program, he remembered one thought he could not finish.

It was a thought he did not want to finish, because he knew the answer.

There was no denying it anymore.

That girl he saw dancing with Victor at the couch by the end of the rink? The one he floated on ice in front of thousands of people towards?

He was in love with her.

* * *

 **Whew! Long chapter. That may be one of my longest ever!**

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	15. A Reveal

220.5

Apparently, the judges felt that Yuri did not nail the revolutions on his quads as much as everyone else thought. However, it was still a world record for Yuri. Hugging a penguin plushie in the kiss and cry, remembered Victor shaking his head at the judges panel. Even the rest of the crowd started to heckle them at lowballing his performance. Regardless, the overall score was a 302.98, shattering the best posted at Skate America. Yuri felt more pride in etching his name into the record books than the actual medal. Winning was the cherry on top.

The rest of the day flashed by like the photographs camera's snapping photos of him from the sidelines. Yuri was exhausted. He needed Isabel and Victor to help him to his feet. He grabbed his Skate America gold medal and stood on the podium while the Russian national anthem played. Phichit ended up with Bronze, earning a quick hug from Yuuri when he stepped off the podium. Yuri smiled quickly for the pictures, a sight some of the photographers were surprised by.

When he stepped off, he rushed into a large conference room. Sittign at a white table next to Victor, he answered questions with machine-gun speed.

"Mister Nikiforov, why did Yuri go off his program so muc at the end?"

Victor pointed at the blonde Russian. "You'll have to ask him."

"Mister Plisetsky, you said some words to the newest skater, Jake Agreste, before your program? What was said?" A bald old man asked while standing up in front of the cameras.

Yuri shrugged. "Not much. I said good luck to him."

"But he already skated."

"Next," Yuri interrupted.

A female reporter waved her hand. "Mister Plisestky, is there any conditioner you use for your hair?"

Yuri sighed. "No, it would look greasy. Next."

"Hey, Yuri," Another reporter asked. "I've been covering you for my newspaper for three years. Why are you actually answering our questions for once?"

The room of journalists laughed while Yuri looked at Victor. He smiled and gave the skater a quick wink. Rolling his eyes, he licked his lips and leaned into the microphone. "I wanted to be different this season. Hope you like it."

Another hand popped up.

Victor pointed at her. "One more. Miss Simpson?"

Leona Simpson stood up. "We've been talking about that girl that's been escorted by Mister Katsuki. Pictures showed her dancing with Victor at a restaurant yesterday. She even met you after your performance. Who is she?"

Yuri turned his head. Waiting in the narrow walkway between the stage and the exit door was Yuuri and Isabel. In a yellow miniskirt and white pants, She waved at him and whispered something to Yuuri. The bulkier man adjusted his orange sweatshirt and tapped on his wrist, indicating the time they needed for travel.

Yuri turned back to the press core. "She's an important part of the..."

"Team," Victor finished.

"Yeah, the team," Yuri said. "If you want to know more, you'll have to follow my Instagram."

With the press laughing, Yuri gathered his gold medal and rushed off the stage. Victor slowly followed him as the cameras flashed like lightning.

* * *

At the airport in Orlando, Victor sipped a cup of warm mocha latte in a paper cup. As the creamy liquid poured down his throat, he looked outside the window next to him. The bright sun illuminated palm trees standing in the ground. The sound of passengers running around the food court rumbled around the large glass atrium. Burgers sizzled on grills while people traversed to their planes. Victor licked a finger and smoothed down a strand of hair while looking at his reflection in the window.

He looked over to Yuuri. The Japanese skater was munching on a large french onion burger.

"I have to say," Yuuri said with his mouth full. "America has good burgers. I've never had anything this juicy from a grill."

Victor leaned back and looked over at the other table. Peering across the room, Yuri was seated at a table with a bucket of fried chicken. He looked down at the bucket with disgust, as if the chicken was about to eat him alive. The round blue table rocked as Isabel was chatting his ear off next to him. She tried to convince him to eat the chicken while Yuri shook his head with disdain.

"They're a werid couple, aren't they?"

Yuuri turned and noticed the two across the hall. "I noticed he's been nicer to her. He's actually called her by her name."

Victor crossed his arms and examined the two. "Do you notice similarities in the way they act around each other?"

Yuuri looked down at his white sneakers. "Please don't say they remi-."

"They remind me of us."

Yuuri blushed and set down his bottle of cola. "Don't say things like that. It's embarrassing."

Victor chuckled and grabbed Yuuri. With a yelp, he clutched Yuuri and pulled him into his lap. The Japanese man was warm. Sweat had pooled on the back of his white t-shirt from the Florida heat. Victor could not help but laugh. Yuuri was still shy after these years. He rocked back in his chair to wrap his legs around Yuuri. He was beginning to gain more weight as his shirts in his closet were fitting more snug. Victor did not mind.

Victor pecked Yuuri on the cheek. "You didn't blush like Yurio is doing whenever I got near you?"

Yuuri turned his head and gave a sheepish smile. "I think I fainted every time I got near you."

Victor elevated himself to Yuuri's ear. "You should do that more often," he whispered.

Yuuri leaned back and raised an eyebrow. "Wait, I should faint more often?"

"What? No, I meant that you should blush more often."

"But I don't want to blush, either. I heard that's bad for your blood pressure."

Victor chuckled and grabbed his cup of coffee. "And why are you concerned about that, my little katsudon?"

Yuuri looked away from Victor. "I'm not talking until we get back to Detroit.

* * *

Meanwhile, Yuri was trying not to throw up at the sight of chicken piled like dead bodies in front of him. The crisp meat gleamed with grease while steam levitated in front of him. Slinking farther into his hoodie, he sneered at the chicken. In Russia, most of the food ranged from soup to fish. They were wholesome and healthy, unlike the heart attack in a bucket he was being forced to eat. This form of American culture was one he could live without.

"Just try it once," the bubbly girl next to him said. She grabbed his shoulder, almost pushing him into the bucket. "If you eat it, I'll leave you alone for the rest of the flight."

"That's pretty tempting," Yuri said. "But at least I know I can live with-."

As he opened his mouth to speak, Isabel grabbed a chicken leg and shoved it into Yuri's mouth. The Russian grabbed his throat as Isabel held the meat in place. It was too late for Yuri. He had already bitten down on the moist chicken. Feeling his mouth burn up from the hot food, he had no choice but to bite down and chew.

Isabel looked proud of herself as she let go of the piece of chicken. Yuri chewed on it like a wine conneisuier performing a wine tasting. After a few seconds, he gulped. The white meat swam down his throat, and he shivered when the warmth collided with his stomach.

"So, did you love it?"

Yuri glared at her. Isabel's navy blue eyes appeared to sparkle as she beamed at the angry kid. Yuri also noticed her lime green tank top fit loosely around her chest, but he said nothing.

"It was fine."

Isabel sat next to Yuri in a chair. "It was amazing. Admit it."

Just as Yuri was about to retort, his phone vibrated in his lap. He looked down at the screen.

 _Ask her out already-Beka._

Yuri glared down at the screen. So maybe Yuri had shared his feelings on Isabel after his skating performance in his hotel room. It was an awkward conversation. Otabek had a strange grin on his face while he stood in front of the window obscuring the Orlando skyline. The talk was long and tenuous with Yuri pouring his heart out on the carpet and Otabek saying nothing. By the end of the night, his friend told him to suck it up and ask her out.

Apparently, Americans were not as exclusive or committed to relationships as the rest of the world. Yuri asked Victor and Yuuri. In Japan, confessions were a big deal. Dates only happened after the big love speech. A man did not go out with a woman to test things out first. Russia was about the same, although Victor mentioned that, as a famous athlete, most rules of decorum were out the window.

When Victor asked why Yuri was asking such questions, Yuri had no answer. He ran out of the room with no warning.

Another vibration rocked his leg. He looked down at the screen.

 _I know why you asked me those questions. Don't worry. Just ask her-Victor._

Before Yuri could respond, another text floated through.

 _Yuri, it's Mila. Sorry I couldn't see you after you skated, but you did great._

Thank the higher beings above, Yuri thought. At least the rest of the skating community was minding its own business for once. He had missed the older skater at the contest. Usually, he would stick around as a courtesy to see her skate. However, he was far too out of it. She would understand. He texted back a thanks.

A vibration exploded a second later.

 _BTW, that girl that was around you? Ask her out._

Yuri felt the blood rush out of his face. He knew Isabel would attract a little attention, but this news was turning into something he did not want. A small shiver cascaded down his spine as the phone continued to light up.

 _Phichit here, Yurio! Yuuri gave me your number. I talked to that girl you like, and she's great. Get married._

 _Shut up_ , Yuri texted back.

 _Don't make the mistake I did, Yuri. Fight for love-Georgi._

 _Stop texting me. I don't like you._

 _It's the president of your fan club, Yuri. We need to talk about this. Skype me?_

 _Nothing to talk about. Leave me alone._

 _Hey, little lady!_

Wait.

No way.

I thought he deleted my number, Yuri thought with dread.

 _JJ Leroy here! Y'know, my fiancee is Isabella. Your girlfriend is Isabel. Double wedding? I'll let you pay for it._

Yuri heard the guttural sound of terror leave his mouth, but he never felt it until Isabel tapped him on the shoulder. He stopped and turned around. She motioned out to the rest of the dining hall. He had shouted loud enough to turn some heads at his expression of pain. A small wave of silence riplled around the cafeteria for a split second. Heads popped up like zebra in a savannah hearing a lion roar.

Yuri flunked back into his seat. He covered his head in his hands as the phone continued to vibrate on his leg.

I am so dead, Yuri thought. I'm never gonna be left alone again.

"You okay, Yurio?"

Yuri looked up and gasped. Isabel was placed right in front of him and looking at him with a smile. She had bent over to invade his personal space as if she was studying his face. Yet again, their noses were almost touching.

"Personal space, woman," Yuri said loudly.

She giggled and fell back onto her chair. "I love how much you hate that."

Yuri swallowed. He had to make a leap of faith at some point. The inner turmoil his head had gone through was too much for him to bear. Looking at the girl in front of him, there was little else to do. She was an annoying, talkative girl that seemed to partner up with Victor to make his life harder. Yet, he wanted her. He knew the reason he skated so well in his free program was because he felt what he skated. He felt the loneliness and isolation. He had to follow everyone else and do everything they had wanted. It was time to feel something else other than being lost.

"Isabel?"

She chuckled. "Yes, Yurio?"

Yuri took a deep breath. "I...I don't know why you're here right now."

She sat up in her seat and raised an eyebrow. "Victor told me to come."

Yuri shook his head. "That's not what I meant. I don't know why you're here in my life. I don't know why I ever gave you the time of day. I never talked to anybody at school."

"You still don't. Not really."

"I know," Yuri said. "But I talk more than before. And I walk around the city more than before. Hell, I eat more than before. And it's all your fault."

Isabel stared at the flustered skater.

Yuri brushed his hair back and rocked forward in his chair. "I don't know who you are. I don't know what's so special about you, but for some reason...I'm happy you came to Orlando with us. I'm happy you bother me at school. I'm happy you annoy me by talking about the stupidest things."

"Hey," Isabel pointed at Yuri. "Tangled versus Frozen is not a stupid discussion."

"The point," Yuri interrupted. "Is that I think I actually like you. But I don't know if I like you in the way you like food or in the way you like people."

"What?"

Yuri groaned. He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "This is coming out wrong."

"Just say what you want to say, Yurio. Our flight is leaving soon," Isabel said.

Yuri sighed. "Do you want to go out when we get back to Detroit?"

Isabel smirked. "Go out where?"

Yuri glared back at her. "Wha-? You know what I mean. Go out! Isn't that what Americans call it?"

"You'll have to be specific, Yuri. I can't connect the dots," Isabel said in a teasing tone.

"Just go out with me!"

"Where?"

"I don't know," Yuri almost shouted. "Like to eat some fish or something."

"By the Lake?"

"At a restaurant."

"Why? Can't Yuuri just make something at the apartment?"

"Because," Yuri yelled as he stood up. "I want to go on a date with you."

"Why?" Isabel asked, standing as well.

"Because я хочу быть твоим парнем!"

"What?"

"I want to be your boyfriend!"

If the room was not silent from his outbursts, it was now. A vacuum of sound surrounded the Orlando airport food court like a black hole had swallowed up all of humanity. People stared at Yuri like he was a stand-up comedian failing on stage. Even the workers in the food stands froze like statues watching the shocking revelation. Some of the travellers passing by noticed the odd exchange and started to watch it like a daytime soap opera.

Yuri felt his face burn like an oven. His shame painted his porcelain cheeks red with a deep blush. His head was cast down, looking at the floor. He was nearly petrified with embarrassment. Yuri Plisetsky, the skating pride of Russia, exploding like that in public would kill headlines. Some dumb blogger was already posting this online. Only a matter of minutes before his phone explodes with texts for another reason.

Victor smiled like a drunk Cheshire cat. He had stood up from his chair, clutching a phone to capture the event. Yuuri covered his mouth like he had witnessed a car crash.

The room remained silent.

Just as Yuri was about to run out of the area, he saw a pair of cinnamon brown shoes land on the part of the floor his vision fixated on. Looking up, he was face-to-face with Isabel. Her face was surprisingly serious.

They stared at each other. Nobody moved a muscle. Yuri held his breath, waiting for a punch, a kick, a scream. Anything to break the hypnosis put on them.

"Why?"

Yuri knew what she was asking. "I don't know. Because I like you, and I have no idea why."

"You're not the kind of person to like people, Yurio."

He nodded. "Maybe I only like you."

Somebody snorted.

He heard a laugh. Yuri looked to his right and glared at the source. Victor shook his shoulders as he tried to stifle out an outburst.

"Really, Yuri?" Victor asked. "How cheesy can you get?"

Suddenly, Isabel started to laugh. Yuri turned to face her. She laughed louder until tears almost ran from her eyes. Some of the people in the food court began to chuckle as well.

"You are so weird, Yurio," Isabel said in a near whisper as the laughter died out.

Yuri scoffed. He had enough of being the punchline today. "I'm weird? You're the weird one."

"At least I'm not confessing your undying love in a food court weird."

Yuri had enough. She grabbed Yuri by his tender, cool hand and squeezed it. She giggled at his actions as she looked deep into his blue-green eyes. "I was wondering when you would ask me."

Yuri gasped. "Ask you?"

"You're so obvious, Yuri," Isabel said while rolling her eyes. "Everyone knew you had a thing for me for weeks."

"What? You had a thing for me for months. I just wanted to make sure."

"Make sure? I was just trying to make sure you weren't gay."

"Why does everyone think I'm gay?" Yuri asked to himself.

"Hey," A voice shouted out. It was a rotund, middle aged man in a yellow jacket with jeans. "Are you two gonna get together, or what?"

"Hurry up and become a couple," an old lady in a wheelchair shouted from a booth. "I have a plane to catch."

Yuri turned back to Isabel. The hyper, silly girl grinned as she gave a little shrug. It was the cutest thing Yuri had ever seen. Almost as cute as that cat poster he saw while walking through the airport earlier.

He looked over to Victor. He smiled and gave a nod of approval. Yuuri tried to suppress a smile, but failed as Victor enveloped him in a hug.

Yuri looked back at Isabel. She nodded at him.

"I hope you keep your bags packed, because we're going to Russia so you can meet my family," he said.

Isabel beamed at Yuri. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moved up to his face.

"Davai," she whispered with a quick wink.

Yuri had an incredible urge to kiss her right then and then. Victor was nearly sobbing with happiness. He felt a deep sense of tranquility at Yuri's realized feelings. He wanted what was best for Yuri and his happiness, and he was hopeful this was a big step. Yuuri clutched Victor like a stuffed teddy bear. He smiled at his former competitor being able to just tolerate somebody, let alone be romantically involved. Maybe he had a chance to win Yuri over as his coach.

Even the strangers in the food court cheered. Of course, there were phone cameras plastered all over the place. No doubt this confession would be all over the internet by the time they landed.

For the first time, Yuri felt that his life was fulfilling. Not just from a skating standpoint. And this girl in his arms was a major reason. A weight had supplanted itself from his shoulders. He felt like he could fly into the sky back to Detroit with the weightlessness of relief that washed over him like a late afternoon Florida sprinkle.

But their first kiss? In a food court? Not an appropriate time. Even Yuri had enough sense.

He could settle for the warm, tight hug Isabel gave him. The rest would come later.

After all, there was still a lot of skating to get through for the year. Not that Yuri cared about that right now.

* * *

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	16. Back Home?

The day after Skate America was an awkward one for Yuri. First, he had to deal with the influx of tweets and text messages when he landed in Detroit. Shrugging on his hoodie and black gloves, he exited the airport and pressed his phone. The flight was a tough one to sit through with Isabel playing twenty questions with her new partner. When they landed, Isabel gave a loud goodbye as she ran off to the bus taking her to the other part of town. Leaving him with Victor, he teased him to no end about the new relationship.

"I want to be your boyfriend. Just the way you said it was hilarious," Victor said with a chuckle. "Why didn't you get down on one knee, while you were at it, Yurio?"

Trudging through the baggage claim area, Yuri felt eyes peer at him. The television monitor above him blinked away departure numbers with every step Yuri pounded the marble floor. He had half a mind to hop on the next flight anywhere out of civilization's watchful eye.

His phone hammered in the point. The screen exploded with hundreds of mentions and messages flickering the screen every few seconds. Even some of his old rink-mates from Russia had heard the news at that point.

Yuri was feeling odd enough with the sudden attention for off-ice reasons. When Otabek linked him a news article of his confession, he almost had a heart attack.

When he got into the car, Victor screeched around the bends of the Detroit highway. Yuri's stomach jumped around like a dying fish on the shores of Lake Michigan while more news flowed into his phone. He was trending ninth worldwide on Twitter. Digging his fingers into the soft leather of the car, Yuri thumbed thought the forums on his fanclub website. They were exploding with debate.

 _I think its great for Yuri! He'll be happier, and that girl is really cute!_

 _She was just a regular high school girl. It's like a fairy tale!_

 _How dare she take Yuri off the market. We need to find her and eliminate her. Now!_

He immediately shut off his phone and flung it onto the empty seat next to him. It bounced and twirled before landing flatly on its face.

The car rumbled over deep potholes and haphazardly bolted metal plates covering dips in the street. The grey sky stretched over the city, smothering the sunlight from warming the chilly late autumn day. Traffic was light in the shrinking city as the small sedan cut through the light fog resting on the concrete. Yuri could smell the musty, light smog that settled outside of the car.

When he got out of the car, Yuri sulked as they traversed up the elevator shaft. The cat was out of the bag, and Yuri was not happy. Well, he was happy that his feelings were not bottled up anymore. He was happy Isabel knew about his feelings. The fallout to this dilemma was the biggest issue. Yuri knew as much about dating as the American history test he took a week previous. He would rather throw himself off the apartment building than ask Victor for relationship advice. Was he supposed to hold hands with her now? What about her life? Would she be inundated with hate mail and attention? Pretty much everybody at school liked her, even if she had no close friends. Would there be some newfound bullies? He heard American girls could be very bitter and catty.

Yuri crossed his arms and frowned. He had not even thought about how she would be affected by any of this. He was selfish, as usual.

Another thought raced through his mind as Yuuri and Victor set the glass square table for dinner. What did he know about her?

Isabel Flynn. He barely knew her last name until she showed the airport agent her United States learner's permit. They were both seventeen going on eighteen. She had dreams of becoming a world-famous chef. She could half hour long conversations about anything from cooking to beavers. She also had a retort ready for any of Yuri's sarcastic or angry one-liners. Talking to her was like partaking in a tennis match. The ball volleyed back and forth until somebody gave up.

Staring down at his steaming heap of katsudon, Yuri sighed. He should have waited to make a decision on her.

Victor noticed this and patted Yuri on the back. "Cheer up, Yurio. You got the medal. You got the girl. Happy times."

Yuri sneered at Victor. "I'm worried I just ruined her life."

Victor took a swig of pineapple juice from a champagne glass. He shook his head and smiled. "Don't worry about her, Yurio."

"But I have to," Yuri said with an exasperated expression pasted on his face. "What if she gets bullied at school now? What if it's like that documentary on American schools we watched? Girls at these places are vicious. What if the Plastics come and haze her?"

"Yurio," Victor chuckled. " _Mean Girls_ is not a documentary. Most schools aren't actually like that."

 _"_ It seemed like a documentary," Yuri said. He breathed a deep sigh. "I should have just shut up and not said anything."

"My dear boy," Victor said in a mock formal tone. "You simply have deeply suppressed teenage hormones. In the heat of the moment, you spat out what you were thinking."

"Shut up," Yuri shouted. "I can control my hormones perfectly."

"Your body doesn't lie, Yurio," Victor said lowly.

"You're disgusting," Yuri said. He poitned at Yuuri. "Especially you. Stuffing your face with katsudon."

Yuuri shrugged. "You eat it, too."

Victor placed a hand on Yuri's shoulder. Unlike his normal self, Yuri did not bother to brush it away. "You're in new territory, Yurio. I know how awkward and weird you feel right now. I was there with Yuuri at one point. But you can learn a thing or two from our story."

Yuri blinked. "So...I should kiss her on the ice and then have sex with her in the hotel?"

Victor gasped and let go of Yuri. "We did not have sex that night! We made love. There is a difference."

Yuuri blushed and choked on a piece of pork. Coughing his lungs out, he beat on his chest until the meat went down. Yuri glared at the couple with disgust. Tomorrow, he was going to have to go to school with a certain blue-eyed blonde, and he had no idea what to do. What would he say to the annoying, brash girl. How was he going to confront her and her gorgeous royal blue eyes or her amazing legs or her cute face or her well-rounded b-.

"Okay, Yurio?"

Yuri shook of his train of thought and saw that the couple were staring at him. "What?"

"I was just saying that you shouldn't be nervous," Victor said. "Be yourself."

"But myself sucks as a boyfriend."

Victor sighed. "I know, but she seems to like you regardless. So be yourself, but be nicer. Ask her things you don't know."

"Like what?"

"Her favorite color," Yuuri replied. "That's a great conversation starter."

"Exactly," Victor said. "Or her favorite movie. Just try to get to know her. Hold hands. Get used to physical contact. She seems like somebody who does that a lot."

"That girl doesn't know the definition of 'personal space,'" Yuri said with an eye roll.

"But no kissing until the third date okay Yurio?"

* * *

When Isabel met Yuri in front of the school gates, they both blushed like little children when they made eye contact. Walking up to each other like two cowboys in a duel, she smiled with a reddened cheek son her heart-shaped face as Yuri stared dumbfounded at her. They both had on the green school uniform with Yuri having his hoodie over the clothes.

They stood in silence as the fog from their breath evaporated in front of their faces.

Eventually, Isabel waved at him. "Hi, Yurio."

"You don't have to wave. I'm right here."

Isabel giggled. "Always a morning person, huh?"

Yuri shook his head. "Whatever. Listen, I think everybody here knows about us."

"Duh. It was on the news last night."

Yuri gasped. "Really?"

Isabel looked at Yuri like he was one of those strange squirrels crawling on the ground by the oak tree near the school entrance. "You didn't know? Everybody has been talking about it. I gained twenty thousand followers on Instagram last night."

"You're on Instagram?"

"Yup," Isabel said with a grin. "I didn't want you to stalk me, but since we're boyfriend and girlfriend, I guess it doesn't matter."

Yuri looked at the large doors by the school entrance. Class was going to begin in a few minutes, and he could not be any more nervous. The butterflies in his stomach punded the inner caverns of his body until he felt almost numb with tension through his muscles. Turning around, he grabbed a deep breath of the Detroit air and tapped his foot on the pavement.

"Here's the deal," Yuri said. "We're...y'know. A thing."

Isabel nodded. "That's correct."

"And I'm a famous figure skater."

"More famous today than yesterday, I may add."

"I've never been involved in something like this before."

"A relationship or being a famous figure skater?"

"Anyway," Yuri said, ignoring the jab at him. "I want to know how open you want to be with this?"

"Open?" Isabel asked. "Like an open relationship? We see people on the side?"

Yuri's turquoise eyes grew wide like the Ambassador Bridge with shock. "No! That's not wh-. I meant how public do you want this to be."

"Pretty public. We don't really have a choice."

"But I mean like 'holding hands' public or 'handshake' public or what?"

"Handshake public? Who shakes their boyfriend's hand?"

"You know," Yuri said as his blush deepened. "Like a romantic handshake. But we don't have to hold hands now. We can wait till later. In Russia, that's usually the first step. Not that I would know! Victor told me, but I try not to listen to him because he messes with my head all the time. So we can just walk next to each other if you only want that. I wouldn't mind if you wanted to hold hands, though. It's not like I don't want to touch you. Although...Although, I don't want to in that way. At least, not at this time. Maybe in the fut-."

Isabel took a step forward and rubbed the back of her hand on Yuri's cheek. The Russian teenager shut up immediately, like a spell had been cast to mute him. Her tender touch felt like a massage from a soft pillow. He felt the warmth travel to his face, battling the frigid wind that was freezing the city. Even a few tawny leaves fluttered around and danced in the thick breeze. For just a second, Yuri felt a deep calm. It was Isabel's way of restoring tranquility to his anxiety.

She rubbed her hand for a few more seconds. Yuri even started to lean into the touch, melting ever so slightly into her palm.

Isabel giggled and retracted her hand. "You are kind of like a cat."

Yuri returned back to Earth and blinked. He scoffed and crossed his arms. "I'm not even going to respond to that."

She yanked Yuri's hand away from his side. Neither of them had gloves on, but the clasp felt as warm as the rays flowing from an oven on a cold winter night.

"We'll be fine. Have I been wrong before?"

"Thousands of times, woman."

Yuri yelped as the girl take his hand and drag him forward to the school's revolving doors. Jogging behind her, he kept his distance as she led the way into the main atrium. Victor told him to always let ladies go first through doorways.

* * *

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	17. Adjusting

The black sneakers squeaked down the yellow marble as Yuri trudged towards class. His petite hands clasped Isabel's while she pulled him closer to the classroom. A sweat bead cascaded down Yuri's nose. His spine was slapped with the cold air pilfering out of the air vents entrenched in the ceiling. It only added to the anxiety that was building within him with every heartbeat colliding with his chest.

Yuri's history with social interactions was not long. When he was forced into pre-school by his mother, sulking became a past time for him. He glared at the small children dancing and hopping with their toys like a aristocrat sneering at one of the homeless people sleeping on benches by the Renaissance Center. Yuri growled at any kid that walked up to him and tried to take his toy. Some transfer student from Japan with blonde hair and the weirdest hot pink eyes tried to take his Penguin plushie. Yuri remembered the sting emanating from his knuckles after he smacked the boy.

Shaking his head, Yuri released a short breath. His nerves got the better of him off the ice almost everyday. He needed help to adjust to this new place and actually make some friends.

Isabel yanked him into the classroom. Yuri looked up at the students around the room.

The chatter halted as all of the students looked at him like deer in headlights.

As quickly as the pause started, a rush of students dropped their conversations and darted to Yuri and Isabel. They crowded around them like pigeons picking bread.

"Yuri, I didn't know you were so good," one blue-haired girl said.

"We all saw you. Somebody was watching it, and told all of us," A tall, brown haired asian kid said in a nasally voice.

"You were insane. You were like a ballerina on ice," A freckled girl with pigtails shouted.

"Can you give my rap crew a shout out when you go back out there?" A pale, skinny kid with thick-rimmed purple glasses asked with haste. "We'd appreciate it."

Yuri looked around at the gaggle of students as if they were mental patients crowding around a television. "Can you all back off?"

"Sure, Yuri," The tall boy said. "How far do you want us to step back?"

The blonde skater rolled his eyes. Just as he was about to speak, he felt a light squeeze around his hand. Tilting his head to the side, Isabel grinned at him. Staring at each other, Yuri got the hint to calm down.

"Nevermind," Yuri said. He saw the faces of the excited classmates and flashed a ghost of a smile. "Thanks. I never thought you would notice."

"Notice that you're like a skating superstar?" The pale kid said with a starstruck gaze in his brown eyes.

The girl with freckles splattered on her face gasped. "We couldn't believe it. We knew you skated, but we all thought you were just...well...not famous."

"But you are," The class said in unison.

Isabel giggled. Yuri shifted around in place when the tall kid pointed at the couple. "Are you two really boyfriend and girlfriend?"

A short brunette behind the Asian kid sighed. "It was so romantic. I wish my boyfriend asked me out like that."

"You two are going to have really hot babies."

A smack. "Shut up, George."

Yuri gulped as a bird zoomed past the classroom outside. He had no idea how to act like a good boyfriend in public, so he knew over-exaggeration was important to hammer in his unsettled feelings bubbling in his stomach.

He nodded. "I didn't plan on it, either. It just came to me."

The brunette squealed. "Isabel," she pointed towards the blonde. "I know we don't talk much, but you have to tell me how you got him."

Yuri scoffed, slightly insulted by the command. "I wasn't caught. I asked her."

The class started to converse with each other again about the new couple. It made Yuri uncomfortable standing next to Isabel. Turning towards her, he nudged her slightly so they could leave the circle. However, Isabel stood firm. She seemed to bask in the limelight like an iguana underneath a desert sun.

Even with the awkwardness, Yuri felt small patches of warmth land in his heart. Isabel appeared to be overjoyed at the attention, answering questions with the others like she was being interrogated by the FBI. Her hand was still firm in Yuri's, and he could not get enough of that smile that she wore all of the time. It was one of the few things that actually made him happy.

Yuri shrugged to himself. Attention was something he was used to, but not on a personal level. He could try it out.

* * *

A few blocks down the busy divided highway, Yuuri tapped on the laptop keyboard with caution. English seemed so complicated to him. There were too many rules and parts to a sentence. He felt like he was writing code for a major computer program every time he typed up an email or letter. Resting in the leather love seat, clicking emanated from the keyboard as Yuuri let out a deep sigh.

Staring at the screen, Yuri heaved himself to his feet and shuffled across the hardwood floor. The laptop hummed on the cocobolo coffee table, waiting for Yuuri's return. Slogging in his checkered pajama pants and yellow wool sweater, his slippers smacked the surface as he carried his way up the spiral staircase. Rushing down the hallway, he pushed open the baby blue door into his and Victor's room.

They gray-haired Russian was slow to get up in the morning. It surprised Yuuri since he thought Victor was the picture-perfect definition of healthy habits. He sat upright and shirtless, gazing at the small television mounted on the wall across from him. Swaddled in the orange sheets, Victor looked up and smiled at Yuuri.

"Hello, Yuuri. Busy day so far?"

Yuuri sighed. "Victor, did you pay the electric bill last month."

Victor leaned his head back on the mahogany headboard behind him. He stared at the ceiling for a few seconds. "I think so. Why?"

Yuuri massaged his temples. "The electric company said you didn't pay it."

"But I thought it came out of my paycheck."

"You don't get a paycheck, Victor," Yuuri said in an exasperated tone. "Your agent gets the check and cashes it in for you. You never told him to do bill pay for the electricity."

Victor shrugged and wrapped himself in the sheets like a burrito. "But it's paid."

"I paid for it."

"Problem solved. Now get in this bed with me. I feel cold."

Yuuri stood still next to the television. "Victor, you can't ignore the bills. It will hurt your credit score."

"No big deal. My credit score is great."

"What is it?"

Victor thought for a second. "I'm not sure. It's pretty solid. A 410."

Yuuri gasped. "Victor, that's an awful score. How many credit cards do you have?"

Victor shrugged.

Yuuri began to pace around the room. Domestic life was still difficult with Victor. He was much more carefree and laid back. Whenever a dish encrusted with dried tomato sauce rested unclean on the counters, Yuuri freaked out. A lightbulb bursted in the tall wall lamp next to the balcony entrance, and Yuuri nearly tripped over his feet running towards the fire extinguisher hidden underneath the stainless steel sink. Victor had to calm him down every time a curtain appeared ripped or wrinkled.

Victor was a very high-maintenance individual. Yuuri cleaned up for him all the time.

As he paced around, he crushed the white carpet underneath his feet. Kicking away a discarded pair of blue jeans, Yuuri traversed the room like a drunk fly.

"It's no big deal, Yuuri. We have plenty of money."

"That's not important," Yuuri said loudly. Victor flinched at the sudden tone change. "I'm trying to manage this condo and all of the stuff we have to get. I don't get money from interviews and press appearances like you. I also know that your spending like crazy."

Victor gasped. "That's not true, Yuuri."

"The cactus you bought Yurio?"

"He needed a friend."

"Pedicure's at a place called 'Izaya's Nail Salon?'"

"Mister Orihara does great pedicures."

"The ten thousand dollar ice sculpture from Fullbuster's?"

"It was your birthday. And Gray is a good man. He's the best sculpture guy in Detroit."

"No, he's not," Yuuri threw his hands up in despair. "That's just what the sign in the window says. The diner down the street says it has the best coffee in the world. Do you believe that?"

Victor cleared his throat. "Yuuri, just come to bed."

"This is serious," Yuuri said. "I don't know how to manage everything with you and Yurio here getting everything dirty. Then, I have to worry about the financial stuff. We spent a hundred grand last month with all of the stuff we did for Orlando. Sponsors don't cover trips, especially for Isabel."

"So are you saying she shouldn't have come?"

"No. I'm not," Yuuri said softly. He paused, the sound of the news reporter droning on television filling the room. Yuuri grabbed a deep breath of cool air and plopped onto the edge of the bed. He slouched over while rubbing his forehead.

Victor sat upright and reached towards Yuuri. He clasped his shoulder and tugged on him. Yuuri turned and faced him, seeing the worry reflected off his steel blue eyes. He held a serious expression and grimaced towards Yuuri.

"Have I not been pulling my weight around here?"

Yuuri shook his head. "You have Yurio and his problems to deal with. We had an agreement about this."

"If you need me to do anything, just tell me," Victor said. He poked Yuuri's neck and pulled him into a hug. Yuuri remained stationary while Victor tried to give him puppy dog eyes. "I'll help out more."

Yuuri sighed. "Just clean up after yourself. Remember to pay your bills."

"Anything else?"

"Just...be mindful of what you buy," Yuuri said as Victor massaged his neck. "I'm not a millionaire like you. I don't know what to do with all this money. Back home, our lives depended on how well we did for the year. Some years, people didn't stay with us as much back in Japan. For some reason, tourists wouldn't come and stay in the rooms. Christmas was tight those years. Now, with all of this money, I just don't want to fall in the same boat. What if something happens to you or Yurio? Just like that, no more money coming in."

Victor sniffled. He knew how hard Yuuri worked to make home life better for all of them. He had neglected to appreciate him more for it. Not only that, but his past life in Japan was another aspect missing in his brain. He never really asked about how his family's business was run. The idea that they were a working-class family stretching every dollar so Yuuri could live out his dream as a skater never flashed in his mind.

He enveloped Yuuri in a warm hug. The Japanese skater yelped as Victor's strong, tone arms squeezed the poor boy. Yuuri's face smothered itself in Victor's bare chest. Not a horrible sight, Yuuri thought to himself.

After a few seconds, Yuuri pulled away. Victor flashed a grin while a blush formed around Yuuri's cheeks.

"Can't stay mad at me, can I?"

Yuuri remained flustered and looked down at the bed, avoiding his gaze. "I'm not mad. I just want you to be okay for the future."

"So...Should I cancel what I bought a few minutes ago online?"

Yuuri jerked his head up at Victor and raised an eyebrow. "What did you buy?"

"Just the usual."

"Omaha steaks."

Victor nodded. "Aren't they the best. You can order steaks online and they come right to your door. These Americans are amazing."

Yuuri clutched his head. He felt another headache coming on him.

* * *

On the rooftop, the sky was flawless, devoid of any blemishes as the tapestry of aqua covered the Detroit area. The wind was nonexistent as Yuri took another bite from the apple risotto in front of him. The warm rice meshed in his mouth. The apple scent floated with the steam upward, separating Yuri from Isabel as she looked at him eat the plate. He chowed down the food like a starving man from a deserted island as cars honked and skidded down the street below.

The rooftop was expansive and flat with a brick ledge surrounding the perimeter. Barren of any objects, the grey concrete had greeted Yuri as he and Isabel met up there for lunch every day. For some reason, the door was always open to the roof. What was weirder was that only Yuri and Isabel seemed to be on it.

The past few days, not much had changed. People were eager to learn about Yuri and his past in Russia. He remained hesitant to say much to anybody but Isabel, but he gave the basic details (leaving out his crying at the Grand Prix Finals). Apparently, some people found his sarcasm and dry responses to questions humorous. Beyond those remarks, Yuri did establish speaking-terms with a few classmates. The tall Asian kid practically interrogated him like the FBI whenever he sat on his desk next to the window for class. In fact, some tall blonde kid who was part-french and part-japanese cornered him walking to American History. Hopping like a rabbit, the hyper boy waxed poetic about him being involved in a club of some kind. He was way too overdramatic for Yuri.

"With all that said, you would be perfect for our new host club," He said while pointing at him.

"Shut up, and get away from me."

That was all it took for the student to sulk away in a deep depression. He refused to talk to anybody for the rest of the day. Yuri could not survive another Victor in his life.

Lunch was spent learning about each other. However, Yuri was concerned. So far, they had discussed random, menial things from favorite songs (Isabel's was "Respect" by some woman named Aretha Franklin) to their favorite pastime: Gay or European.

"So you really think that Mickey guy from Italy is gay?" Isabel said.

Yuri scoffed. "I know he is. Both him and Christophe. They're weird people."

"So when you met Victor, you knew?"

"Nope. I said European, but he turned out to be gay."

"When I met you," Isabel said as she took a bite of risotto. "I thought you were European. Then, I saw video if you skating in those outfits and thought you were gay."

"What's wrong with my outfits." Yuri said, slightly insulted.

"Nothing. I just didn't know it was normal for skaters to wear those things. Then again, that is a very European thing to do."

They paused while munching on the food. Yuri felt comfortable in silence with her. Most social interactions for Yuri carried a desperation to fill every morsel of time with a joke or an observation. For Isabel, she could care less, although her chatter was more than enough to cover for both of them.

"Favorite movie?" Isabel asked.

Yuri put down the plastic fork. "It's Russian. You wouldn't know it."

"That's why America is so great," Isabel said while waving her white plastic knife in the air like it was a wand. "We've invaded the culture of the planet. You can't go anywhere without seeing something American. Cars, fast-food, movies. You name it."

"For better or worse," Yuri said with an eye roll.

Another quick silence.

"My favorite movie is 'Airplane.'"

"Never heard of it."

"You know," Isabel said with a wide grin. "Surely, you can't be serious?"

"I am serious," Yuri said. "I don't know what that is."

Isabel shook her head at the missed reference. "You have a lot to learn about America, Yuri."

"I have my hands full enough with you."

More eating. Eventually, Yuri finished the plate, and they discarded them over the edge of the rooftop. It was Isabel's idea. She told Yuri as long as no one was hit as the fluttered down the building, it would be okay. After all, the plates are biodegradable.

They sat next to each other, their backs resting on the ledge. The rest of the city rose up from the horizon behind them as more cars whizzed by the school. Up on the roof, Yuri felt like he was in another world. He was separated from school and that stupid condominium he had to share. He felt at peace for once.

He turned over to Isabel. The girl pushed back a strand of her hair as she smiled at Yuri. "So..anything else? We have forty minutes."

Yuri nodded. "Tell me about your parents."

Isabel stared at Yuri. She seemed to grow slightly pale as a gentle breeze began to blow across her face. Shifting in her spot, she thought about the request.

"Why?"

Yuri huffed. "Because all you do is ask about me, but I barely know your life."

A leaf skittered past the two like a skipping stone on a lake. Isabel stared at the passing brown leaf while Yuri waited.

After a pause, Isabel turned back to Yuri. "My dad works in a garage."

"I know that. What about your mom?"

Isabel pressed her lips together. Shifting her gaze away from Yuri's she looked at crack in the concrete. "She's not around anymore."

Yuri screamed at himself mentally. He was the stupidest person alive. No wonder she never mentioned a mother. He should have enough intellect to know better. He shrunk slightly into his hoodie from the awkwardness.

"I'm...uh...you d-don't have to say anything if you don't want to." Yuri said.

Isabel shook her head and gave Yuri a reassuring smile. "It's no big deal, Yurio. You should know."

Yuri figured if he was pressing her for answers, he might as well keep going. "So when did she...pass?"

Isabel frowned while looked Yuri deep in his eyes. "Pass? She didn't die. She left."

Yuri's eyes bulged. "Left? Like a...what's that word for separating?"

"Divorce," Isabel said. "When I was six. I haven't seen her since."

"In Russia, those things are rare," Yuri said. "Divorces are for high-profile people. Leaving isn't something that happens over there."

"Divorces happen all the time here," Isabel said with a downtrodden look in her face.

"Do you know why?"

"Sometimes people just don't want you anymore."

Yuri leaned back and let out a deep breath. Running a hand through his soft hair, he considered his next move. He had zero experience in helping people feel better. If a crying kid came up to him, he would probably run away as fast as he could. There was no running away in this situation. He hated to see her sad. The small frown on her face did not suit her at all. It was a face that he needed to get rid of so he could see her contagious grin.

"My father died when I was little. I never knew him," Yuri said.

Isabel scooted closer to Yuri. They seemed to find solidarity in their parental issues. "Do you remember him?"

"Nope," Yuri said as he enclosed his hands together in front of him. "All I remember is my mom smoking a cigarette at the funeral. I never saw her smoke since, so I guess she needed it then. After that, she took odd jobs until grandpa came in. You know the rest."

"I just remember her yelling at him all the time," Isabel said. "Something about wasting her time. She did a lot of drugs."

"Drugs?"

"That's what my dad said. It's a problem here, Yurio," Isabel added with a sad tone. "The people that live beneath us were all arrested last week. Dealers and users."

"You can't live around that."

Isabel chuckled. "Thanks for caring, but it's not big deal. I've lived on 8 mile my whole life. Once you get to know the people, you'll be okay. They just want to be left alone to do what they want. Even if it's drug dealing or gang stuff."

"When you come to my apartment, you could get Victor to drive you."

"And die? No thanks."

"You're right," Yuri said while staring at the shoelaces on his black sneakers. "He'd be the first to say something offensive and get shot."

Yuri saw his phone and noticed there was thirty minutes left. He needed to steer the conversation in the right direction. He needed a distraction from lamenting about their pasts. He felt an idea creep into his head, and almost dismissed it as being too stupid and corny. He wasn't one for all of the touchy-feely stuff that came with romances, but Isabel was. Internally groaning, he knew he had to cheer her up. Sucking up his pride, he shifted towards Isabel.

"What are you doing?" Isabel asked.

Yuri robotically spun himself perpendicular to Isabel and scooted forward. He leaned back and laid flat on his back. His head rested in Isabel's lap. Looking up at her, he saw her face break out into a large smile. Yuri had to admit that it was a pleasant sight from where he was resting. Her lap was soft, and being closer to her physically had a certain appeal that he had not felt before. After all, he was still a teenage boy.

"And why are you putting your head on my lap, Yurio?" Isabel asked with a chuckle.

"I thought you would like it. I'm doing this for you, not because I like it."

Isabel took a soft hand and stroked Yuri's long locks. Yuri felt his breath escape his lungs when he felt the sensation. Yuri uttered a surprise moan at the soft strokes. The light tug of his hair sent a calming tingle that rushed through his body. His limbs melted like jelly on the cool concrete of the roof. Isabel kept stroking his hair, causing Yuri to purr and nestle his head into her lap.

Isabel let out a loud laugh. "Did you just purr?"

Yuri closed his eyes and lost himself to the sensation. "If you tell anybody, they'll never find your body."

They sat in silence for the rest of lunch. Isabel stroked Yuri's hair as he rested on her lap. For some reason, none of those events grossed Yuri out at all.

* * *

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	18. Relaxing

The times when Yuri and Yuuri were alone together were rare, but incredibly awkward. Usually, Victor left because he needed to buy something from one of the dollar stores down the street. Yuri sulked in his room while Yuuri paced around the apartment and watched television. Isabel shattered that routine to the ground, but today was Saturday, and Yuri had no interest in doing any practicing or working whatsoever.

As Yuri folded gray sweatpants into a drawer, he spotted the bright red ink encircling a date on a calendar. His next competition was only three weeks away. The NHK Trophy was the second leg for Yuri's quest to win the Grand Prix. Hosted in Nagano, he braced himself for the inevitable trip to Yu-topia only a bumpy train ride away from the stadium.

He had only been to the hotel once, and it was an annoying experience. First, getting naked around Victor and Yuuri was not something he was excited about. Splashing into the steaming hot springs water, he plunged into the water before receiving a shock to his spine. Boiling hot water engulfed him like the potato soup simmering on Misses Katsuki's kitchen stove.

Things got worse when Victor slid next to Yuuri and began to flirt with him. He snapped a college yearbook's supply of photos on his phone before standing up, water only up to his knees, and declared a game of Marco-Polo. At this point, Yuri hopped out of the tub and ran away. He spent the rest of his time convalescing in a cramped room with bamboo blinds and tabletop-hard twin bed.

Fragrances of sizzling bacon brought Yuri back to life in his room. Yuuri was making bacon again for lunch. Hissing erupted from the kitchen as fat and oil popped like fireworks in a cast-iron skillet.

Yuri marched down the narrow entry-way into the large expanse of the kitchen and living room area. Yuuri stared at the bacon cooking underneath him. His blue apron hung loosely on his body, wrapping around the sleeves of his black tee shirt. The fabric deflected the hot bacon grease that splattered from the cooked meat.

"Are you making that cancer meat again?" Yuri barked.

Yuuri screamed and spun himself around. Yuri crossed his arms as he stood underneath one of the recess lights in the kitchen. The bacon popped as more oil spurted from the pan.

"Hey...Yurio. I didn't kno-."

"Don't call me that. I'm Yuri. You're Yuuri number two," Yuri said with the tone of a whiny teenager.

Yuuri looked around the large apartment, hoping for a savior to whisk him away from Yuri. No such luck existed.

Truth be told, Yuuri did not have an issue adjusting to life in America. He had become familiar with all of the cheap restaurants and buses roaming Detroit years prior to moving with Victor. He knew English quite well for an Asian transplant. His accent was almost nonexistent. Speaking of accents, Yuri muttered some Russian slurs under his breath while glaring at him.

"I thought I said no bacon. I have a diet," Yuri exclaimed.

"It's not bacon. It's turkey bacon." Yuuri said.

Yuri shook his head. "I don't care. Make a salad for once, porky."

"What did I say about name calling?"

Yuri froze on the spot. His eyes grew wider when he remembered the argument a few weeks ago. Yuuri had a serious, almost amgry face as if to remind Yuri of what happened when he was pushed over the edge. He had never forgotten the exchange that they had that night. It made Yuri reflect on how much the Japanese skater effected him. AS long as he knew him, the obsidian-haired man that towered over Yuri had never shown any ill will. The extent of their interactions were Yuuri politely asking for something and Yuri rolling his eyes for the millionth time. Even when they skated with each other, Yuuri never presented arrogance or malice that threatened Yuri's safety.

After being slapped, a lightbulb popped in Yuri's head. He had been far too hard on Yuuri. After all, he was going to be married to his primary coach very soon. Happy wife, happy life.

With the speed of the lightening criss-crossing the sky out the window on the rainy day, Yuri softened his glare and looked down, shuffling his bare feet on the tile floor. "Nevermind," he said. "What the hell is turkey bacon, though?"

Yuuri smiled and turned some of the bacon in the pan. The seared meat sizzled in the skillet with every movement. "Turkey bacon is amazing. It's chewy and tastes great, but it's healthier than regular bacon."

"Why do you even eat bacon? That's such an American thing."

Yuuri chuckled. "But you're into American things. Just ask Isabel."

Yuri choked on his own spit. Hoping backwards, he clutched his chest like a bullet piercing his skin. "What are yo-. We haven't done any... You know what? Just shut up," he shouted.

Yuuri had grown a bit of a spine as well in their time in Detroit. This city hardens everybody, Yuri thought.

"Are you sure. Victor was telling me about some noises in your bedroom?"

"Shut up, Katsudon," Yuri yelled. "She wasn't even in my room that day. I was...listening to music."

During their argument, Victor strolled into the living room. Holding a newspaper, he smiled at the arguing men.

Another typical day flew by in the Nikiforov household.

Shrugging off his yellow overcoat, he brushed his gray hair of any rain droplets and leaped onto the warm couch facing the kitchen. He watched them argue like a viewer witnessing a sitcom on television. He rarely understood the arguments, but he was happy when they made up at the end, which they always did. It started with Yuuri apologizing over and over to the Russian blonde. Yuri would sneer and shout "fine" before storming down the hall to his room.

Recently, Yuuri sparred back at the verbal fight. In fact, Victor grabbed an immense bag of pride when Yuuri appeared joyful in the fighting. He was taking Yuri's insults less personally and throwing some back himself. Yuuri said he received some advice on how to hit back at the angry Russian's sharp, silver tongue. Apparently, it was not that difficult to trip up Yuri. It just required a push back at him.

Yuri pointed at Victor as he relaxed on the couch. "Victor, your fiancee is bullying me."

Victor spat out a laugh. "I didn't know my little katsudon was capable of such a thing."

Yuuri adjusted his glasses. "I'm not bullying. I'm just joking a bit."

"I don't think Yurio knows what a joke is, Yuuri," Victor said. "He's very sensitive."

"I'm not sensitive," Yuri yelled. "I just don't like it when people make up shit about me."

"Language."

"Shut up."

Victor cleared his throat to silence the two bickering skaters. "Yuuri, why are you...uh...bullying Yurio," he said while trying to hold a laugh captive in his throat.

"Isabel told me to," Yuuri said. "She told me what to do to stop him from saying things to me."

Yuri waved his hands in the air. "But I barely call you names anymore. Aren't I nicer to you, you idiot?"

"Anyway," Yuuri continued. "She taught me a thing or two about keeping you," he pointed at Yuri. "From saying things about me."

"I said I was sorry for calling you names earlier."

"No you didn't," Yuuri chuckled. "You just said 'nevermind' and then asked about turkey bacon."

Victor laughed as the two continued to argue. Unlike the first few months living in Detroit, their arguments seemed to be more playful, familial even. There was no more poison spraying from Yuri's words. His tone did not suggest disgust or bitterness at Yuuri. Likewise, Yuuri was beginning to raise his voice more when necessary. Victor craned his neck and peered out the large bay window that replaced a wall. Overlooking the city, heavy clouds scooted past them. Rain pelted the cool glass as Victor smiled at the city.

Victor smiled as memories flashed in his mind. Moving day into the new apartment was hectic. Yuuri skittered around the apartment looking for every personal item. He assumed they were all missing, even though they found everything as they unpacked. Yuri stayed on his phone the entire time, only lifting a finger to push his twin bed into his bare bedroom.

Their first time eating a Coney Dog at Duly's place was special. Yuuri chowed down the processed meat topped with cheese like a fish gulping water. Yuri poked at the hot dog for ten minutes before taking a bite. The rest of the hot dog was gone in ten seconds.

Victor snapped a picture of Yuri on his first day of school. He wore his usual scowl as the tight olive-green uniform was hidden underneath his white hoodie. His brand-new day-glo orange backpack hung loose on his back. He had no energy to muster a smile.

Things were changing from the misery that surrounded the apartment early on. Victor liked to think it was because Yuri had learned about just how much Victor and Yuuri cared about him. As Victor unraveled the thin newspaper and fingered the edges of the pages, he shook his head. He was not stupid.

Isabel had changed a lot in the household. It was a near miracle. A random girl from Detroit had changed Yuri so much already. She was a nobody, ignorant and useless to the skating world. She had an effect on Yuri that no one else had come close to achieving other than Otabek (Victor for the longest time had been pushing for Yuri to get with Otabek. Sadly, that ship would sink to the bottom of the ocean. For now, at least.) She seemed so positive and happy about life. She was exactly the person that Yuri hated. Phichit's blind optimism of life with Victor's sense of humor. Yuri would rather vomit than deal with that kind of person.

Victor fumbled through the newspaper and scoured the local news section. He needed to learn more about this city.

Looking at the minutes of a local meeting about property taxes, Victor's mind drifted again to Yuri, who had given up and examine Yuuri cook turkey bacon.

Yuri kept asking himself what it was about her that was so appealing to him. Victor wondered the same thing. The romantic comedies he watched on Netflix usually resulted in opposites attracting. Those were movies at the end of the day. Then again, he had fallen in love with the timid, flustered mediocre skater from Japan (although their first meeting was a drunken stupor that neither of them remembered well).

Maybe Yuri wanted somebody to argue with during the day. Yuuri had always backed down, and Victor just let his words slip off his shoulders. What kind of loser would he be if he argued with a seventeen-year-old teenager? Maybe he wanted somebody to complain about all of his problems to instead of bottling them in like a shaken can of soda. Maybe it was purely on her looks. Or maybe Yuri realized the virtues of love and friendship.

Victor shook his head. That last reason was a bit of a stretch, even for a hopeless romantic like himself. Diving into the editorial section about union worker rights, Victor leaned back on the couch.

Regardless of how it happened or why, Victor hoped Yuri was careful and stayed honest to himself. He experienced the impulsiveness of young infatuation.

The good news was that those moments of blind recklessness came from being in love with Yuuri.

* * *

"It's like your trying to get me to stab myself."

Another lunch on the rooftop. This was a common occurrence at this point. In fact, the rest of the school was catching on and purposefully avoided that area. They joked about how they wanted to give them privacy, but the weather was getting colder as December encroached on them like a tailgating car.

For some reason, the apple risotto and sirloin steak Isabel cooked gave Yuri a feeling of exhaustion. Practice was ramping up in intensity for the NHK Trophy, and schoolwork was still difficult.

Yuri had his head cradled again in Isabel's lap. She had a near-obsession with stroking Yuri's delicate, fluffy blonde hair. His arms were folded on his stomach as he tranquilized his muscles with every light tug. Yuri still contended that he was just allowing this affection because it made Isabel happy, but she knew better. The relaxed expression on his face and the quiet purring that he emitted from time to time proved her right.

These moments of rest helped Yuri forget the entire world and his problems. Soaking in a hot tub after practice felt nowhere near as good as this.

Isabel chuckled while looking down at Yuri. His long eyelashes fluttered with lethargy, obscuring his shiny blue-green eyes. She kept pushing away his hair from covering them, hoping to see them more often.

"I'm serious, Isabel."

"You don't sound serious."

"You're making them smarter, and that's bad."

Isabel adjusted her thin purple jacket. She rested her back on the rooftop ledge while smiling at Yuri. She took her other hand and put it up to Yuri's face, running a hand down his cheek. Yuri revealed the weakest ghost of a smile as she traced a circle on his cheek.

"Stop being so serious all the time, Yurio. If you want people to like you more, you should..."

"I should what."

"I don't know. Tell jokes?"

"Like what?"

Isabel shrugged. "What jokes do you know?"

Yuri sighed. "I know some Russian jokes, but they're pretty racist."

Isabel snorted. "Racist?"

Yuri responded by digging his head further into her lap, escaping the cool breeze blowing over the rooftop. "Very racist. All of the jokes my grandpa told? He would be shot if he said them here," Yuri said while closing his eyes.

"Are we talking Chris Rock racist or 1960's south racist?"

"Isabel, you know I have no idea what either of those things are," Yuri spoke softly.

"I'm just asking," Isabel said. She looked up at the grey clouds perusing the sight beneath them. Rain could come down on them any second. With forty minutes left in lunch, they would have to go back inside soon. Isabel had noticed a skyrocketing in popularity recently. She had always been liked by other people, but she could not recall a person who she would classify as a close friend. Some guys had approached her from time to time because they were interested. She always remained happy and gave them a chance, but they would always break things off early. She was not sure why this happened.

Things were different for her. People asked her questions left and right. Her Instagram account had exploded to nearly a million followers in two weeks. Some people in her neighborhood had also take notice and asked for money or shoutouts on television. A modeling agency had found her email and pestered her about doing a photoshoot. Isabel knew culinary arts was her passion, so she politely turned them down.

Isabel refused to tell Yuri that some of the new attention was troubling. A low profile was key in her neighborhood, so near celebrity status caused extra attention everywhere she went. People she never even knew came up to her saying they were great friends with her father and asked for their home address to "visit" later in the day. Some even went as far as to say they were long lost family members. The jig ended when Isabel pointed out that she was from Irish descendency, and they were African-American.

Her father hardly said anything to her about it. Honestly, she was not sure if he even knew about their relationship. When she said she was going to Orlando, he asked if it was paid or not. When she said the trip was covered, he gave only a passing shrug before retiring to his room for the night.

Before Isabel's train of thought flew of the tracks, she heard a loud snore. Looking down, she stopped stroking Yuri's hair and found the skater asleep. His breathing was flat as he dozed on Isabel's lap.

Yuri's face was placid, devoid of any wrinkles or flares of annoyance that flashed almost every day at school. Not a speck of stress or discomfort showed on his sleeping expression. He was completely dead to the world. Isabel thought he looked extremely cute sleeping. She was upset that she did not see him in this state more often.

He really is like a cat, Isabel thought while releasing a giggle. Even his eyes are kind of like those from a grey tabby.

His lips were closed, but not pursed. They were relaxed along with the rest of his body, nearly limp on the rooftop with his head propped up on her lap.

Isabel's smile flew off her face as she gazed at him. Yuri seemed so at peace, almost happy in his sleep. He always said he had a hard time sleeping in the apartment with Yuuri and Victor, so this must be a rare occurrence.

A thought projected itself in Isabel's head. She tilted her head while examining Yuri, an excited chill rattling her bones.

She gingerly lifted up Yuri's head just enough for her to sneak her legs away from his weight. Holding his head, she scooted her legs back and kneeled right next to him. The hard concrete was a tough surface for her knees, only shielded from the roof by the green pants she wore. She lowered her hands like an elevator, placing Yuri's head on the roof as cautiously as a jeweler carving diamond.

When he lay completely on the roof, she looked down at his peaceful pose.

"Yuri?" she asked in a whisper. "You awake?"

Another snore.

She nearly shivered with anticipation as she looked down towards Yuri's lips.

I shouldn't do this, Isabel thought to herself. I want to, but that would be taking advantage.

Isabel considered herself an innocent girl in that she did not do any of the things people in her neighborhood enjoyed, whether that be drugs or illegal gambling (though casino gambling was fine by her). However, she knew about the tings that went on in school and the neighborhood. After all, she was still a teenage girl. Gazing at the boy and his quite expression and how his lips just seemed so kissable, she could not help herself.

He doesn't have to know.

What if he wakes up?

Then he wakes up, Isabel thought to herself. Besides, I bet he wants this.

She brushed her hair back, making sure no strands fell in front of her and tickled Yuri's face. Placing her arms in front of her, she bowed her head and leaned down.

The noise from the cars down below muted itself. The wind stop rolling across her face.

She heard the lazy pattern of his breath. As she drew closer, she noticed the translucent peach fuzz forming on his chin. His long eyelashes curled on the tips. His face was perfectly manicured and impervious to any blemishes.

Isabel shut her mind up and plunged the rest of the way.

Her lips met his in a soft embrace. At first, a slight brush. Then, she pressed them in a proper kiss.

She closed her eyes and gave in to the warm bliss enclosing the couple. She worked his lips and tried to keep her breath measured despite her heart ramming itself on her chest.

Peppermint, she thought. He tastes like peppermint.

She nearly seemed drunk on the kiss, like she needed to keep going in order to satiate her appetite. Yuri doing nothing was little distraction to her. The warmth from his pliable lips was more than enough reward for her. She got a little bolder and swiped her tongue on the surface as she kept going. It seemed like she kissed him for hours, feeling a sweltering pleasure from the make out.

Isabel heard a moan hummed in Yuri's throat.

She yanked her eyes open and pulled back. When she elevated her back straight up, her body screamed for air. She hadn't breathed proper for a few minutes. Isabel lassoed air into her starved lungs. Her chest heaved up and down, recovering from the daze her mind was in from the kiss that was mind-blowing even if Yuri remained asleep. Her eyes grew watery as she looked down.

Fortunately for Isabel, Yuri was not awoken by her. He slept on the roof, none the wiser.

I think I just realized something, Isabel thought to herself.

I'm really weird.

* * *

 **So just like how Yuuri doesn't remember his first drunken meeting with Victor, Yuri won't remember his first kiss with Isabel. Irony is funny.**

 **Shout-out time! From now on, I will be shouting out great reviewers and answering questions! Send in any comments, questions, or suggestions you have!**

 **As always, make sure to review, follow, and favorite. It only takes a few seconds from your day, but it means a lot to me and helps me make the best story possible!**

lunarsun591: This review was about a week ago, but very detailed and thought-provocative. When making this story, I wanted a more localized, focused story on the main characters and my OC. The anime stretched really far to capture every characetr and make us care about them. I don't think people realize how lucky we are that Yuri On Ice! was not a complete disaster. On paper, this anime could have bombed. I mean "hundreds of people losing their jobs" bombed. Thankfully, that didn't happen, and we recieved a good show regardless.

Anyway, I understand the canon world according to Kubo has no traces of homophobia or even that worried about being particularly realistic. In real life, Victor and Yuuri would not have nearly an easy a time considering Russia and Japan are quite homophobic as far as laws and society are concerned. Therefore, there should be no point in the setting being Detroit.

I did these things because 1. More stories need to be set in Detroit. I wanted to be unique and not just have it at Yu-topia or Russia. 2. I'm not concerned about following the tone of the show to a tee. I just want to write well and make something entertaining, fun, and maybe even thought-provocative.

Erzatscarlett: One of my first reviewers, and one of my best. I always look forward to your opinion. You mentioned in a previous review about shipping Otabek with Yuri, and other reviews have mentioned that as well. I tried to confront this in that chapter in Orlando. I think it would be funnier if they thought the other was gay and that's why there is so much tension between them. It's not because they want each other, but they don't want to wreck a friendship because they THINK the other is attracted to them.

Also, let's be honest. The chances of four of the main characters being gay are pretty small. I would be surprised if in the next season (which I suspect there will be one) that they go that route. I doubt it becomes canon. Also, there are so many Otabek/Yura fics already! I'm trying to be different!

bstarqueen: Another reliable reviewer who has reviews I like to see. I know you think the sexuality was a bit over the top earlier. Again, though, we need to be honest with each other. Yuri On Ice! is quite sexually charged. Towards the end, it becomes more a story about companionate, or unconditional love as opposed to passionate, but it was pretty suggestive throughout. I do think I have actually strayed away from that with the other stuff going on, but there will be some...suggestive stuff in the future. Thanks for the reviews.

CrescentMoonTenshi: I think the thing I like most about your reviews is that it puts me in the chair of the reader. You review about what you were feeling and why when you read about this scene and that scene. It is very educational and helpful to me, more than you could imagine. Yes, I did read Home by FourthDistraction and enjoyed it immensely.

There are similarities. They are OC-oriented (I don't think the story is OC-centric or centered on Isabel, but she is definitely a big part of it), take place in America, and are focused more on everyday life of our favorite skaters than the competitions.

Differences? "Home" keeps more faithful to the tone of the anime. I tried to create my own humorous, but also grounded tone. I think FourthDistraction focuses more on imagery and painting the image. My focus is dialogue. I like my characters to speak for themselves. Dialogue has to be entertaining and fun and listenable, as if you could hear this everyday in your life. Not saying "Home" has bad dialogue, but these stories are different stylistically.

And I guess "Home" by FourthDistraction is technically more popular than my fic so far. That's another difference.

 **Thanks to all of these reviewers and the ones I did not mention. You are all phenomenal, and I hope you keep it up as we enter the next part of the story: the NHK Trophy!**

 **Will Yuri hit a major setback? Will Isabel and Yuri kiss for real? What about the other skaters? Will they do anything that changes the story's direction? Will Yuuri eat his mom's katsudon?**

 **Spoiler alert: He will eat that and a lot more.**

 **Thank you! See you soon!**


	19. Forgetting Finals

Yuri hated American history.

He rolled the thin, wooden pencil pencil his thin fingers above the paper test laying on the wooden desk. The black ink stared up at him with a laugh as everybody in the room had their heads down in silence. Scratching graphite and tapping filled the void of noise in as students took the test.

Yuri had never experienced anything like finals week in school. The extent of his schooling in Russia was basic arithmetic and building giant Lego robots in kindergarten. Sitting in the rigid plastic seat underneath the dim fluorescent lighting, Yuri blew out an exasperated breath. He cursed the stupid country he was in and their laws about education.

Then again, Victor would have pushed him into going to school anyway. It was supposed to be good for his social skills, but Yuri thought his time on the ice was enough. He could care less about how his grades turnout out. After all, the NHK Trophy was only a few days away. He should be shredding the ice with his skates right now. Instead, he sat in captivity behind the small desk in a classroom of students who, despite closeness in age, couldn't be more different than him.

Glancing at the front of the room, he noticed the teacher's desk was unoccupied. Rearing his head higher, his eyes scanned the room for any adult.

Nobody.

Flickering his eyes forward, he jabbed with his pink eraser the head of neat blonde hair in front of him. Isabel craned her neck to the side and looked at Yuri from the side of her vision. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

"Hey, Isabel," Yuri whispered. "Who signed the Alien and Sedition Act?"

"What?" Isabel said with an incredulous expression. "I can't tell you that."

"But the teacher isn't here."

Isabel turned in her chair, and she gazed at the empty front of the classroom.

"Wow," she said in a louder tone. "She's gone."

She grabbed the rest of the class attention's with her statement. The other classmates heads popped up like curious prairie dogs. A few low murmurs of voices began to spread throughout the class as they realized the teacher was gone. They looked around with confusion at each other, wondering what to do with their incomplete scantron sheets. They garbled with one another, a few of them hesitant to share answers.

Yuri rolled his eyes at the rest of the class. They may be smarter in the classroom, but he knew a thing or two about street intelligence.

"So," Yuri said, sitting up straight on his chair. "Can you tell me the answer?"

Isabel shrugged. "Nope. I don't know the answer, either."

Yuri nearly committed a spit take with a non-existent glass of water. He raised up his hands in frustration. "What?"

Isabel stood up from her chair. "Hey," she spoke to the rest of the class. "Does anyone know the answer to nineteen?"

"Alexander Hamilton."

A slap. "Shut up, George. It's John Adams."

A bulky black kid raised his hand in the corner of the room. "I thought it was Hamilton, too."

"Seeing 'Hamilton' does not make it the answer to everything." A snarky voice shot back.

"Well, if John Adams was so important, why isn't he in 'Hamilton'?"

"He is. Didn't you see it before?"

"Kyle, stop being so mean," the freckled-face girl said.

The tall chestnut haired male with a slim face scoffed. "It's not my fault he hasn't seen it yet."

Suddenly, the tall blonde kid with lavender (yes, lavender) eyes hopped up and pointed at the whole class. "I have an idea," he said in a velvet soft voice. "I'll take all of you commoners to that musical. My treat. I promise that as a new member of this school and representative of this school's newest club, I will show goodwill and-."

Yuri buried his head in his hands. These people were giving him yet another headache. This was a common occurrence with them. Usually, the class only bothered him before the teacher showed up. They peppered him with questions about his past life and begged for pictures and follows on social media. The popularity bug seemed to catch on. Just taking a picture with him guaranteed an extra ten thousand followers on Instagram by the next day. Being a classmate of his was a privilege most in the private school could not pass up.

They came up to him before lunch. They hung around his locker (he still had problems opening it). One even tried to have him featured on a rap song of his. Victor told Yuri that he should have said yes, but Yuri could live without the opportunity.

He had enough. Yuri slammed his fists onto his desk, causing a small sting to run up the nerves in his arm. The rest of the class shut their mouths. Snapping their vision towards him, Yuri stood up in front of his desk and waved the test in front of him like a flag.

"Shut up," Yuri yelled.

The class stared at him like a pack of frightened deer spying a hungry coyote. Yuri glared at the annoying students and clenched a fist.

"Does anybody know what to do right now?" Yuri asked.

A hand raised.

Yuri pointed at a short brunette with angel braids running down the side of her head. "Yes, you. What's your name?"

She stammered as her face grew pale. "I thought you knew my name."

"Right. Mary."

"It's Ebony."

"It's okay," Isabel said with a calming wave. "He didn't remember my name until like last week."

Yuri sighed at Isabel. "Whatever. Enoby, what happens now?"

"It's Ebony."

"Should be Ivory with how white you are."

"George, shut up."

Ebony looked around at the class. They all stared at her, which made her nervous. Sitting in the back row, she did not expect this attention.

"We can't take the test without someone here," she said. "If our teacher is gone, we shouldn't be taking it."

"That's the Detroit school system for you," Kyle said.

"So can we leave?" Yuri asked with his arms folded in front of him.

Ebony shrugged.

Yuri seethed through his pearly teeth. He cared zero about taking the rest of the test. Besides, the sooner he got out of there, the sooner he would be able to practice for Japan. He grabbed his orange backpack and slung it onto his shoulder. Pulling up the top part of his hoodie to cover his head, he kicked in his seat underneath the desk.

"Are you leaving, Yuri?" A tall, Asian kid shouted from his front-row seat.

"Yup," Yuri said as he flipped his hair at the class like a sassy stripper. "Screw you guys. I'm going home."

"Then I'm leaving, too," Isabel said. She ran over and grabbed Yuri's arm and held onto it like a python suffocating its prey. Yuri looked over his shoulder at the bubbly girl as she tugged on the sleeve of his hoodie.

"Why would you want to leave?" Yuri asked.

Isabel blinked a few times before flashing a sheepish smile. "Uh...so I could be with you for the day," she said quietly.

Yuri found it easier to just let Isabel do whatever she wanted around him than to fight her on her decisions. It could be nice, too. Considering the heavy routine of studying and practicing, time out on the town was a rarity. Also, how could he say no to that smile or those eyes, especially since they belonged to his girlfriend?

Yuri felt his heart pick up speed. He was still not used to that word.

"Fine," Yuri said in a stronger voice. "It's the last class of the day, anyway. Let's get out of here."

The rest of the class began to pick up their belongings. Yuri and Isabel strolled out of the room as the entire class began to file out of the classroom.

* * *

"So, that guy is from Japan?"

"Yup," Isabel said holding a Coney dog. "And he's a ladies man. But a respectable ladies man."

Yuri scoffed. "Respectable ladies man."

"Y'know, he doesn't do ladies man stuff," Isabel said.

"So no sex or cheating on them?"

"I wasn't going to put it that bluntly, but okay."

The Hart Plaza in downtown was empty during the workday. Only a few pigeons skittering around the ground for breadcrumbs and sleeping old people in ragtag clothes dotted the brick town square. Tall commercial buildings stood across from the plaza, spying on Yuri and Isabel as they sat on a wooden white bench facing the skyline. Beneath the buildings lay the plaza, nestled between the city and the Detroit River.

The spattering of monuments and statues in the plaza seemed random and frantic to Yuri, as if a giant dropped them and never put them in their proper places. Yuri's right, two ominous limestone pillars rested on the cobblestone. Bracketing the pillars, a statue of a few people pointing and looking at the river behind Yuri sat a few feet away from the bench.

In front of them, two gigantic steel arcs curved towards each other, making a nearly-enclosed circle that seemed like the gateway to downtown. Jagged granite boulders dotted the area around the arc as a pigeon perched itself on one of the points. A fountain with two large steel pipes joined at the top like a halo over an angel dropped water into a mocha-brown basin.

The day was chilly as a frozen wind blew through the alleyways of the city on the coast of Lake Michigan. Yuri had zipped up his hoodie all the way to the top, an action he only took in the coldest weather. Isabel wore a puffy purple jacket over the useless school uniform they were both resting in. Outside of their voices, only the quiet whistle of the breeze and rumblings of nearby buses cut through the peaceful reverie.

Yuri had grown to like the Coney dog. In fact, it may be the only American food he liked so far. The slice of Vienna sausage wedged in the warm bun was sprinkled with diced onions and a slab of mustard spread over the top. The odor flowed into Yuri's nose, making his sinuses crystal clear to take in the savory meat that warmed his stomach.

Finishing the food, he crumpled the brown napkin in his hands and dunked it into the trash bin next to the bench.

Isabel began to laugh at him. Yuri raised an eyebrow in a slightly annoyed expression.

"What?"

Isabel took a bite from her Coney dog. "You're just really cute when you eat."

Yuri felt a strange blush forming around his cheeks. He shifted his gaze away from Isabel's eyes, fixating his vision on one of the unused streetlights lining a running path. "You say that about everything I do."

"Maybe you're just really cute in general."

Yuri kept looking away from her. "Stop saying that. it sounds weird."

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to be cute," Yuri said while shaking his hands. He looked back at Isabel, who wore a wide grin. "It's weird for guys to be like that. My entire career, people have been saying things like how cute or how graceful I am."

"But you are those things."

"I don't want to be, though."

"Guys can be cute."

"I want to be something else," Yuri said in a lower, less rushed tone. "But not cute."

"Okay. Beautiful?"

Yuri blanched. "If Victor heard you say that, I would never hear the end of it."

Isabel hummed to herself in thought. Suddenly, a stroke of inspiration coursed through her head. She snapped her fingers and pointed at Yuri. "Sexy."

The blush deepened to a deep tomato red on Yuri's face. He shook his head with his voice trembling in embarrassment. "Th-that reminds me too much of Victor. He calls that pi-. I mean, Yuuri. He calls Yuuri that all of the time."

"So if I call you sexy, you're going to have flashbacks of your coach saying that?"

Yuri nodded quickly.

Isabel sighed and rested her head on Yuri's thin shoulders. He remained rigid as one of the statues in the plaza as she burrowed her head further. Physical contact, especially in public, was still a new thing to him. He had a hard time coping with it. Outside of Victor, most Russians were not apart of the touchy-feely group that Americans seemed infatuated. Everywhere he went, he saw Americans high-fiving or hugging each other for no reason whatsoever. It creeped him out to no end. What if one of those people were sick and started an epidemic in Detroit? The city would be wiped out in days.

"I do think you're deserving of that title, though."

Yuri looked down at the beautiful girl on his arm. "What title?"

She looked up at him, her deep blue eyes flashing with mischievousness as her breath billowed out her mouth in a opaque fog. Her cheeks grew rosy from the cool air surrounding them. "Sexy."

Yuri groaned as the blush deepened further. "When we go to Japan, don't mention any of this to anybody," Yuri said nervously. "Especially Yuuri's mom."

Isabel laughed for a few seconds. Even Yuri cracked a small smile at how silly they were being.

Her laughter made him feel a little better about most things in life. There was an infectious optimism that he never saw in anybody until he met her. Considering all of the bleak things he had to go through, seeing her felt like a pause from the hustle of the real world. He never felt worried about the press or his fans or winning the Grand Prix around her. She was a soothing, yet terrifying presence to him. She was soothing because she was so happy all the time and actually listened to him. The way she seemed so glad just to be anywhere near him or the way she stroked his hair at _just_ the right speed or the way her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she was near him made his worries evaporate like the fog hovering over the Detroit River behind them.

He was terrified because he still has no idea what he feels. Was this the l-word he was feeling? What if he said the wrong thing and scared her away? Why was he feeling less angry at everything, even though not much had changed? Why did he actually want to be nice to Yuuri and Victor?

Yuri thought to himself as she chattered away about some civil rights activist who made a speech in the park they sat at many years ago. He used to think about relationships in terms of how it benefited him. If that person was not good enough to waste his time on, he simply avoided them. With Isabel, he wanted to be good enough for her. For the first time in his life, he asked himself how he could be better for another person. That question was far scarier to him than a thousand Grand Prix final skates.

As darkness fell upon the park, lights began to glow from the windows of the buildings, illuminating the city like stars dotting the nighttime sky. Looking out at the park and Detroit skyline with a blank expression, he slumped his shoulders and licked his dry lips. He was going to have to get these questions of his chest at some point. His skating, his training, and this annoying, amazing girl next to him depended on it.

* * *

 **A bit of a fun transition chapter before we go to Japan! Should be fun.**

 **Spread this to everyone if you think its good enough! Favorites, follows, reviews, links, fan-art, you name it. I will appreciate everything as if it was a real life paycheck!**

 **Question of the day: If Yuri Katsuki had to be replaced by any character from anything ever, who would you replace Yuuri with? Doesn't matter if it makes no sense, just the most entertaining. I think England from Hetalia would be great. Every time Victor made an advance on him, he would just smack him and cast some curse. Although Sebastian from Black Butler would be entertaining as well.**

 **Shout out time!**

Nova Lee Zaiden: First of all, thank you for reviewing. I am so glad you are enjoying the story so far, and I hope you keep leaving good reviews about what you like and dislike.

Now, you said in your review that you had issues with what occurred in the previous chapter. You are completely entitled to have your opinion, but I believe your opinion that anything is problematic or indicative of rape culture is just flat out wrong.

First of all, I as the author have never said I supported or disavowed anything that the characters do. They have minds of their own, and I just write how I think they are most likely to act in situations. As characters have progressed, those actions have changed. Yuuri would never have stood up to Yurio. Likewise, Yurio would never allow a girl like Isabel to have any physical contact with him before hand. People change, and they may take actions that you or I may not agree with. So, if somebody does something you don't like, that doesn't mean I'm trying to propagate any culture whatsoever. If Isabel thinks something you don't believe is appropriate, that's her character, and her character is certainly not malicious in the way you suggest.

Second of all, no, her actions are not reminiscent of rape culture of problematic. Should Isabel have kissed Yurio in that way in those circumstances? Not really, but two things:

1\. I was drawing parallels to how Yuuri was drunk and did not recall his meeting with Victor

2\. Isabel wanting to kiss Yuri, which she has hinted at in the past, is a far cry from forcing someone against their will to engage in sex.

Let's be crystal clear for a second. If you're upset that this event is reminiscent of rape culture, then you must have had major issues with the actual anime. My goodness, Yuri On Ice! had quite a few instances where Victor accosted Yuuri without receiving consent. Likewise, Yuuri was drunk and not able to give express consent during the party with Victor. I don't understand why it's cute to fangirl over things like that, but when it happens here, it's problematic.

If your only argument to these issues is that it was okay in the anime because Yuuri wanted to be touched or kissed by Victor, then you understand my point.

Don't get me wrong. I am definitely NOT upset or mad at you. I hope you keep reviewing and ask others to as well, because i cherish every speck of criticism or praise. I will not blacklist you and I will certainly not flag or delete your review. I'm not that kind of person. I hope you stay on board, and I will do my best to continue writing well enough for your entertainment.

Jexss: Yes, Yuri is just a big kitty cat deep down. Don't worry, the cat puns and skin-tight black suit will come eventually. If only this fic was set in Paris...Hmmm...that would be an interesting cross-over, wouldn't it?

bstarqueen: Another great review from a great reviewer! Once again, I completely understand your thoughts, and I will take them into account. Sexuality is a powerful and engaging thing to bring up in any rom-com (I think this fic would be considered a rom-com) and it will pop up. The important thing is to be real and frank when it does appear!

The reason Yuri Plisetsky is my favorite character is for the reasons you list. He's the most relatable because, when you strip away the amazing ice skating talent, he has the same thoughts and doubts as any other teenager. Seeing the character progress to somebody that is actually okay with his life (although we aren't quite there yet) is a great story, and I'm glad my OC with the help of Yuuri and Victor accomplished that.

I'm most proud so far at how well-received my OC is. There are quite a few OC-centric fics starting out in this fandom, and I hate to be the critic, but most of them are not particularly great. I wanted my OC to be memorable and a real challenge to Yuri. Add some personality quirks, and an OC can shine. Unless you are all just lying, I think I've hit a nerve with Isabel Flynn, and I'm so happy for that!

CrescentMoonTenshi: Another reliable reviewer comes through again! My plan for this story really did revolve around Yuri changing for the better. I almost view this as a redemption story as sorts. A redemption of character. Maybe that is the mindset I need for writing other stories. Seeing how people are changing is tough to do in a measured, subtle way. I hope I'm doing even a halfway decent job.

Most fangirls and boys would agree, however, that Yuri is gorgeous. Although "sexy" is an apt adjective as well according to Isabel.

dbarrietta: I try my best to edit, but English isn't the easiest language in the world. Non-english speakers say it is one of the most difficult languages, and there are reasons why. Yurio and co. are lucky that they were able to learn it and speak it well enough.

Guest: I'll give you three guesses as to who that french/japanese guy forming a host club was, and the first two don't count. BTW, he's also in this chapter if you didn't notice. Silly commoners!

Erzatscarlett: Duly's is a famous restaurant in Detroit that apparently serves a mean Coney dog, which Yuri has grown to love. If I ever get anything wrong about that area, don't be afraid to let me know. I hope I described Hart Plaza well enough.

And yes, "Home" by FourthDimension is definitely a worthy fic for being somebody's favorite Yuri On Ice fanfiction! Go out and read that author's stuff if you haven't already. Say in your review that I sent you! ;)

Although, I would love to go from your #2 favorite fic to #1. Let me know what I can do to get there!

T **hank you to all reviewers, and I can't wait to get a move on. We are heading to Yuuri's homeland. What will happen? What do you want to happen?**

 **Thank you! See you soon!**


	20. Heading Home

The long flight to Japan was a bit of a blur to Victor. After reclining in the soft leather chair in first class, he ordered a flight of strong mimosas and red wines. Draining the drinks, he lost himself to the intoxicating liquid blurring his senses. For a Russian, Victor could not hold his alcohol even if his life depended on it. For all the drinking at post-competition galas and benefit parties, he hoped his tolerance would have improved by now. When Yuuri rocked his shoulder to wake him up in Japan, he found a trail of spit going down the window his head rested on during his pass-out phase.

As for Yuuri, he had to spend the whole flight listening to Victor talk his ear off about anything. A cloud shaped like Christophe? Victor went on a twenty minute cry about how he missed the bulky Swiss man.

The flight attendant came with a block of swiss cheese and crackers. Victor kissed the old man's bald head and promised to worship him for bringing food.

The air conditioning stopped mid-flight. Victor shouted about the plane plunging into the ocean and clutched Yuuri like he was a life preserver.

I thought Asians had a low tolerance for alcohol, Yuri thought as he pushed Victor into the white rental sedan.

As Yuri slid himself behind the steering wheel, Victor dozed in the passenger seat, his head suspended on the taut seat belt. As Yuri crawled into the car, Isabel slammed the door on the other side as the doors locked. The night was dark and gloomy, clouds covered the dull moon hanging over the airport. Looking out at the bright lights illuminating the parking lot of rental cars, Yuuri turned the keys; the engine revving to life. The drive from Kumamoto to Hasetsu was about two hours down smooth highways to the seaside town.

Plugging in the address, Yuuri gulped as he shifted the car into the drive setting.

"When was the last time you drove?"

Yuuri looked in his rear-view mirror. Yuri sat with his arms crossed and leaning on the door. Isabel smiled as she peered out the window like a child noticing candy displays outside a store.

"Drive a car?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. "No, a horse. Yes, I mean car, moron."

Isabel leaned forward and rested her head on the shoulder of the driver's seat, right by Yuuri's face. "Are you a good driver, Mister Katsuki? Do you drive on the right side of the road here?" She asked in an animated tone.

Yuuri pressed a button to turn on the defroster. The warm air inside the car clashed with the frigid wind fogging up the windows. "Probably a year or so. I never got my driver's license in America."

"Why do you think he has to be lugged everywhere like luggage?" Yuri said while looking out the window.

Yuuri adjusted his glasses as the fog retreated on the cold windows. "How was the flight?"

Isabel groaned. "Yuri wouldn't talk to me the whole flight."

Yuri gasped. "That's such a lie. We talked the whole way through."

Isabel sat back down and looked at Yuri with a confused expression. "You told me that you had a headache and went to sleep."

Yuri sushed Isabel. "Don't tell him that," he whispered as his eyes shifted to Yuuri in the drivers seat.

Isabel faced forward. "Yuuri," she said in a loud, whiny voice. "Your son was mean to me on the flight."

"Shut up," Yuri said in an annoyed tone. "He's not my dad."

"You're right. He's Victor's dad."

Yuuri choked on the air as his cheeks began to warm in an embarrassed blush. People being upfront about his and Victor's relationship still made him nervous. He still had nightmares about Phichit parading the new couple around on Instagram and announcing to the world how cute they were. Then again, Yuuri admitted to himself that he got nervous by most things in life. Driving these three to Hasetsu was another fear he would have to cross off his list.

"Can we please just get there without a fight?" Yuuri said quickly.

* * *

The fast freeway gave way to desolate country roads as Yuuri drove through a wooden forest. The headlights cleared the immediate front of the car of any animals or obstacles. However, the rest of the world was pitch black, invisible from any street lamps or buildings. The shroud of darkness made the drive seem eternal; the rumble of the tires sliding over pavement jittering the passengers of the vehicle. Tall oaks and pines surrounded the road, shielding it from the rest of the world. A pine tree air freshener dangled with every turn on the uneven surface of the road. The only light in the car was the dashboard controls and the abscess lighting that glowed a faint lilac color underneath the seats.

Victor woke up a few minutes before they turned onto the lonely road through the forest. The entire group sat in silence as the car pierced through the dark abyss covering the path ahead.

Driving further into the forest, Yuuri felt his vision falter in fatigue while the air conditioning pumped cool air through the cockpit. He adjusted the vent to hit his face, attempting to stay awake.

Yuri checked his phone periodically, but found no texts waiting for him. He remembered the drive from the nearest airport to Hasetsu being boring, but bullet trains usually made it there quick enough. Driving was a different story, especially since Yuuri drove slower than the People Mover train lugging tourists around in Downtown Detroit.

Yuri saw a glow from the corner of his eye. Turning his body, he saw Isabel faintly illuminated by a phone. With a quick look, she sighed. Her blonde pixie cut bobbed as she shook her head. Her phone fell to her lap as she sat up straight.

"What's wrong?"

Isabel whipped her head to face Yuri. "Nothing. I just thought I got a text from my dad," she said while putting on a tight smile.

Yuri frowned as he leaned back in the plush leather seat. Isabel had been very open about herself for as long as he knew her. From her favorite color (purple) to her thoughts on wooly mammoths (that was a weird conversation), she was an open book.

What bothered him was that she was very coy about her home life. She had given indications about her father being a hard worker in a garage, and they appeared to live in a less-desirable part of the city. Beyond that, Yuri was in the dark about what she had to endure outside of their time together. He still had not visited her home, although Yuri was not too worried about going to that area of Detroit. Every time Victor offered to drive her home from the apartment, she nervously laughed and told him that the bus took her right to her place. Save for their talks on the rooftop, Yuri knew little else about her past life. Most fathers would be more than hesitant than to send his daughter on a trip with a Russian stranger to Orlando, let alone halfway around the world. Either her father was trusting of her, or something strange brewed behind that shiny smile of hers. Then again, what would Yuri know about how fathers should act?

Yuri fumbled with a piece of string sticking up from the seam of the car seating. He knew a couple of days before a major leg of the Grand Prix was not the time to bring up these concerns, so he remained silent.

"So why do Japanese people wear those facemasks?"

Yuri looked at Isabel as she directed her question forward.

Yuuri waited a second before scratching his lengthy black hair. "You asking me?"

"It's just so weird. Japanese people have those facemasks wherever they go. It looks like a flash mob surgery is going to happen any second."

Victor chuckled. "I never got it, either. Yuuri?"

Yuuri stared forward at the road. "I guess there are a lot of reasons. Some people wear them because they're sick and don't want to spread germs."

"But doesn't that single you out?" Isabel asked. "Why would you have a sign that tells people that you're sick?"

"Would you rather get people sick just because you didn't want to tell people you were sick?"

"Duh," Isabel and Victor said in unison.

"Wha-. Why would you do that?"

Isabel looked up at the ceiling and thought about it for a second. "I don't know about you, Victor, but I just don't want people to avoid me just because I'm sick. What if the President showed up, and I had that face mask?"

"So you would knowingly get the President sick just because you didn't want him to avoid you?"

"Pretty much," Isabel said. "Victor?"

Victor rubbed his eyes and let out a quick yawn. "It's not exactly a good look for anybody, is it? I work hard for my wardrobe, and I ruin it with a facemask? No thanks."

Yuri sneered at the other side of the car. "You two disgust me."

Victor turned his head and spied at Yuri from the front. "Why? People have germs and they spread. It's a matter of building an immune system."

Yuri groaned in frustration. "That doesn't mean you willingly spread and share germs, idiot."

"But you willingly share germs with Isabel, don't you Yurio?"

The Russian blonde scoffed as his blood temperature began to rise in anger. Victor was still on a never-ending quest to tease Yuri about his new relationship. If Yuri so much as drank a cup of water, Victor had some wisecrack about Isabel to counteract. If it was anybody else, Yuri would explode and stab that man in the neck with a pen. Then, he would put their body in a small box and sink it to the bottom of the Detroit River. Considering how dirty that water could be, finding that body would be difficult.

However, for as annoying as Victor was, Yuri knew that he meant well when it came to Isabel. In fact, the two had grown quite close to each other. They always hugged whenever they saw each other. They took turns smacking Yuri with a joke or some half-insult, half-term of endearment. He even caught Victor talking over the phone to her, laughing away like a gossiping school girl. Yuri still had his doubts about whether Victor actually cared about him and his feelings. Despite that doubt, Yuri knew Victor could be trusted to treat Isabel well. It made him feel a little better about skating in a different country.

Meanwhile, Isabel shifted away from Yuri, a small blush growing on her face. Staring down at her lap, a small bundle of nerves tightened in her chest. The irony of Victor's remarks was not lost on her.

Certainly, Victor was not referring to the time Yuri was asleep on the roof.

Was he?

No, it was just her being paranoid, she thought. There was no way anybody could know about that. She had yet to tell anybody about the secret kiss she gave Yuri. She was still in shock over it. Yes, she was impulsive, but she could not be _that_ impulsive. Could she?

What made her especially nervous was that she felt addicted to that kiss. Whenever Yuri got close to her, she had the impulse to just take the thin skater in her arms and lock her lips to his right then and there. She loved the way his long hair was so silky and fell perfectly into place. The way he looked at her with those beautiful eyes or how he nuzzled himself on her whenever she touched him just drove her crazy.

Isabel sighed while the car rumbled down the road. Yuri would probably shrivel up in a ball and die if she kissed him in public. Then, he would come back to life and yell at her about embarrassing him in public, something she did often.

Although maybe he did want her to kiss him, but he did not want to admit it. After all, she got him to confess how he felt in front of a crowded food court. Being bold seemed the way to go when dealing with Yuri.

"Don't walk away from these two."

Isabel broke out of her thinking and saw Yuri staring at her.

"In Hasetsu?"

Yuri had trouble keeping eye contact. "I...I just don't...want anything to happen. So stay close to them."

Isabel smiled. She reached over and grabbed Yuri's fragile hands into her own. Yuri remained limp as she squeezed with reassurance.

"Are you worried about me, Yurio?"

Isabel expected an eye-roll, but Yuri remained serious. He furrowed his eyebrows while a small fire seemed to burn in his green eyes. "I don't trust some of the people we're going to meet. Most of the skaters you'll meet are losers, but they're also weird. If anybody tries to do anything with you or says something you don't like, tell me."

"And you'll do what?"

"I'll make sure they never skate again," Yuri said.

Isabel took her free hand and brushed back a strand of hair from Yuri's slim face. Once in a while, Yuri gave in and became the big softie that Isabel new he was deep down. Sure, he tried to act fierce and independent, but he had small quirks that made him a human being just as much as anyone else. It reminded her that he actually cared about her, and that was a feeling she did not want to let go.

"That was, like, the most romantic thing you've ever said," Isabel said with a grin.

Yuri shrugged. "Just wanted you to know."

Even when he tried to appear nonchalant, Yuri could not help the tiny grin that grew from her light touch. Her disrespect for his personal space was beginning to grow on him.

* * *

 **Thanks so much for reading! What will happen in Japan? What do you want to happen?**

 **Any comments, reviews, favorites, fan-art, you name it! Just post it. Make sure you review as much as you can! It can help me with making this story great! And don't be afraid to spread the word!**

 **Shout out time!**

yurisangel: I came up with the story because I wanted to set a Yuri On Ice! fic in Detroit. I thought it was such a cool and uniques setting, and to make it a part of the story makes it more unique. Most fics in this fandom are either in Russia or at the hotel which you will see in the next chapter. I also wanted to make a good OC story with a good OC. I know I said this before, but I read a lot of fics on this site. So far, most OC-oriented or OC-centric fics for Yuri On Ice! have not been that great. I'm hoping to make something a bit different.

I like Yuri On Ice! a lot. Otherwise, I would not be writing about it. However, there are a large number of flaws with the show. The cast is way too large for only twelve episodes. Honestly, even if they expanded the episodes, it would still be too much. The showrunners said that they wrote this show in a way where every character had their own story, and that is the major problem. You can't do that and make it excellent. In fact, it's a miracle it was even done well. Most of the side characters do not get enough backstory or even enough screentime to register a real impact. The anime is not focused enough. If it was a more focused story on the main 3 characters, it would be better. We still know little about Victor or Yurio's backstory. What if the time dedicated to Christophe or Leo was taken away and we learned more about the main people?

Also, the animation is inconsistent. At its best, its some of the best animation i've ever seen. At worse, it's actually pretty awful. The middle episodes do not have the best animation. And I guess the dialogue could use work. The script was great in some episodes, but not great in others.

I still love the characters and overall story. If I had to point to one thing Yuri On Ice did undeniably excellent, it would be the music. Making an original soundtrack with great sounding songs from different genres? That's something I haven't seen before.

Isabel was just a great sounding name. Could you really hate somebody named Isabel? I haven't met one I haven't like yet!

meganannabethjackson: Thanks for reviewing for the first time! Keep it up!

Yes, Yuuri going back home will be fun, and we will see things from his angle a little more in the next chapter or two. Should be fun!

CrescentMoonTenshi: When the teacher goes, you go! That's a rule of life.

I really want to take more time with Yuri in class, because that would be a big part of his new life. You'll see more of them eventually. Although George is becoming more of a problem by the day. Maybe someone should knock him down a peg.

Isabel will stir up plenty of trouble in Japan. Who knows what will occur because of it?

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	21. Just The Two Of Us

Yu-topia Katsuki had an official name, but nobody called it any other name. Even on the tourism brochures for Hasetsu, the inside front cover boasted of the historical hot spring resort resting on the edge of town. The colorful facade in the front exclaimed about free soup and discount time in the saunas. The building looked as if the demolition crew had simply forgotten about it when rebuilding the newest part of town with cheap apartments and vacation homes. The brown resort was a temple with sliding doors welcoming the newest guests.

Little had changed to the building as far as Yuuri remembered. The lime-green carpet draped the mahogany floor inside the narrow hallways. The deep dim of the light lanterns suspended from the wall shined soft light around the dining area. As Yuuri pulled his red luggage, an aroma of honeysuckle candlesticks burning in the corner spread across the room and invaded his senses. Yuuri could not help the small smile as he saw a few guests pacing with leisure through the area.

As he set down the luggage on its side, a crash roared from a closed door next to him.

"What did I just tell you, Axel? Don't use the toilet brush to kill flies."

When the owner of the voice yanked the door open, Yuuri confronted a tall girl with bleached brown hair. Silver studs and hoop earings clung to her ears as her flushed face was consumed with sweat. The maroon uniform she wore hung onto her frame like lead. A lavender headband held back her hair as she held a cigarette in her mouth.

Staring back at Yuuri, he broke out of his shock and smiled.

"Hey, Mari."

The woman began to laugh. She put her unused cigarette back into her pant pocket and shook her head. "Don't 'Hey, Mari' me. Give your sister a hug, goddamnit."

She flung her arms around Yuuri and pulled him into a tight hug. Yuuri dug his head into the soft plush protecting her shoulder. A small voice in his head hoped it would make up for the guilt he felt over not keeping in touch. For just a few seconds, it was them by themselves. After all, this was their home. Yuuri had not made the best effort at keeping contact with the family in America. He would see what they were doing on social media. Once in a while, Mari would call complaining about the new business giving her a headache.

A wave of calm showered Yuuri as he gave his sister a tight hug.

* * *

Yuri and Isabel unloaded the car, careful to not step on any of the ice that hid on the steps up to the main entrance. The air was frigid. Isabel thought it was colder than Detroit, but the darkness of the evening shielded the snow mounds on the sidewalk or ice patches from view. The dim lights around the parking area helped little as Yuri adjusted his hoodie. A few cars rumbled past on the quiet side street outside the complex. A cricket chirped in a nearby evergreen bush.

A scream from the building shattered the calm night. Isabel snapped her head towards the source.

"What was that?"

Yuri shook his head and rubbed his temples. "Yuuri's mom."

"Oh," Isabel said. "She sounds excited to see her son again."

Yuri and Isabel began to roll the luggage behind them towards the steps. Knocking the wheels on the steps, they climbed towards the sliding door of the house.

"Should we take off our shoes?" Isabel said as Yuri reached for the doorknob.

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"On the way here, I read about taking your shoes off before going into Japanese houses."

"I don't care," Yuri said when he opened the door. "I've come here years, and nobody has yelled at me about it yet."

Yuri strolled down the entryway into the dining room. Isabel shrugged to herself and followed suit.

* * *

The Ice Castle was refurbished with a new slab of slick, unpatched ice surrounded by the dark ivory stone walls. The chilled air was only slightly warmer than the frigid sleet that fell on Hasetsu. Sitting on a small hill with small family shops and a gas station surrounding it, the rink had new wall panels installed on the outside with a glass facade showcasing the lobby. Passing the receptionist desk, Yuuri saw his distorted reflection in the bent, dull metal of old trophies left behind by their owners. Next to a torphy with a broken side handle, Yuuri touched the glass in front of a silver medal gleaming in the fluorescent lighting above him.

It was his silver medal from the Grand Prix.

He remembered the day he donated the token. The entire town had a small parade and welcoming celebration at the Ice Castle. Victor and Yuuri climbed out of the rented limousine arm-in-arm with each other. Victor basked in the spotlight, waving and blowing kisses at the townspeople as he paraded down the street in his white penny-loafers and matching blazer. The Russian man pulled Yuuri with one hand as confetti draped their shoulders, thrown by office workers in some of the taller buildings in the town.

Yuuri bit his fingernails every time he thought of how the town elevated him to idol status. A person like Victor treating him like the best thing since sliced bread was awkward enough; a town labelling him as the Pride of Hasetsu made the toes in his black sneakers curl with anxiety.

"Yuuri, love," A thick, Russian accent shouted out from the far end of the hall. "Let's get to the ice. The surprise is there."

Yuuri was hesitant when Victor asked him to go to his old ice rink. After a long, scrumptious dinner of katsudon and Guinness, Yuuri and Victor collapsed on each other in their shared bedroom. Sleeping with Victor in his childhood bed was odd, but the flight was long and he was finally calm. He closed his eyes, Victor breathing with a quiet carefulness on his neck.

Yuuri slurped a cup of coffee in the kitchen. Victor, excited as ever to be in Hasetsu, forced Yuuri to get dressed to go to the ice rink. Before he could muster a question to Victor about their schedule or Yuri, Victor shoved him out the door.

Victor held the heavy door towards the bottom bowl of seating in the ice rink. Yuuri creeped through the doorway and looked out on the ice.

They stood right at the entrance to the ice. The sheet of frozen water glistened like one of his mother's diamonds. The ice rested without a trace of skate tracks or fallen novices spinning around in desperation. Silence confined the space into a void, separate from the ruckus of air conditioning units or teenagers pushing each other down.

Yuuri turned around to Victor. He held a pair of black figure skates in his hand. He shook them in his face, like a parent dangling keys in his son's face.

Yuuri slapped his chest and clutched the area his heart began to pound. "Victor, I can't. I haven't skated in forever."

Victor bore a gentle smile. "I don't want you to do any program. I just wanted to skate with you. Just the two of us."

Yuuri blinked as the man in front of him looked with anticipation. Those steel blue eyes had that effect on Yuuri, an effect that made him feel invincible. Alone time was something they had forgotten to engage in for a while. Most of the day was spent preparing schedules or choreography for Yuri's programs. The days of sitting down and watching a movie together while munching popcorn evaporated into the mist Yuri kicked up with every slide of his skate on the practice ice.

Victor pulled of his red sneakers and tied up his skates from the Ice Castle's rental closet. Yuuri knew there was no hope in convincing him to stop.

When Victor Nikiforov tells you to skate, you skate, Yuri thought to himself as he thrusted his feet into the tight shoes.

As Yuuri prepared himself for the ice, Victor turned to the speaker system and flicked a switch. The speakers around the empty rink came to life with a low hum. He smirked to himself when he pushed a button on his phone, the device connected by a cord to the speaker panel.

When Yuuri stood, wobbling like a newborn learning to walk, Victor put his phone down and lunged towards the ice entrance. His skate made contact, and Victor glided on one foot before spinning to face Yuuri. He beckoned him forward with a finger.

Yuuri blushed. Victor looked amazing back on the ice. The confidence and charisma he exuded from every pore of his skin magnified when he moved on skates. Yuuri gripped the outer wall of the rink. With a deep breath, he pushed himself off and slid forward.

Victor grabbed Yuuri and steadied him, cradling the shorter man in his arms. His touch comforted him, making his muscles relax. Yuuri sniffled as he gripped Victor's shoulders. They began to spin, dawdling around in a hypnotic ring. A mesmerizing soft sound emanated from the speakers above them. A soft bass played with tubular bells chiming like a gentle heartbeat.

"'Just the two of us,'" Yuri said. "This is my favorite song."

Victor inched his legs just enough, making the couple spin in a dreamy haze. "I know. That's why I'm playing it."

Yuuri let out a soft laugh. "I love the music, but the lyrics get to me. All of the stuff we've been through in the past three years. It's been just us, Victor. 'And we can make it if we tried.'"

Victor felt a lump grow in his throat as it tightened with a bittersweet somber. The couple sashayed around on the ice as the music continued to play. Saline began to pool around Victor's eyes as he thought back to their relationship. The time they had been together was a challenge every day. They were both so busy, they had forgotten about each other at times.

"Yuuri," Victor said in a soft voice.

Yuuri saw the tears in Victor's eyes. He put on a melancholy smile and rubbed away a drop. "Silly, what's wrong with you?"

"I...I want to say thank you," Victor whispered.

"For what?"

"For...for just existing," Victor said. "I don't know, Yuuri. I just need to thank you. You do so much for me, and I never say thank you."

"You say thank you all the time."

"I think I forgot the meaning of those words. The words 'thank you,'" Victor said in a sorrowful voice. "I know I'm high-maintenance, and I know I make you uncmfortabel all of the time. Whenever I sign autographs or take pictures or flirt with you. You deserve somebody that won't give you a heart attack every thirty seconds."

Yuuri chuckled under his breath. "I'm marrying you, Victor. I signed up for that stuff."

"You're just an incredible person," Victor said as he sniffled. "I don't deserve you. If it weren't for you, Yurio would still hate me. I'd still be sleeping around with who knows who. I'd be lost for so many different reasons. I didn't even know what a Coney dog was until you told me, Yuuri."

"You didn't know what a credit score was, either."

Victor laughed as a few tears squeezed through his eyelids. He leaned down and gave a soft peck on Yuuri's nose. "I know I've made things so hard for you. I've made you pick up Yurio when I forgot. I make you cook everyday. You have to do all of the financial stuff. Cleaning. Doing the laundry. You do it all. I just want to you to know that...all of the things I've won? All of the medals and world records and magazine covers? They don't matter to me, Yuuri. You matter. Every day, I ask myself what I can do to make sure you stay in my life. I wonder how lucky could I be to meet someone that I can actually love. I wish you knew just how happy I am that you are around me. I know I can be abrasive at times, but If you ever want me to change in any way, let me know."

"Why would you say that? You're perfect exactly how you are, Victor."

"No, I'm not perfect," Victor said. "But I don't care. As long as you're here, my life is worth living. So thank you, Yuuri. Life may get tough for us, but I think our family can pull through. "

As Victor nuzzled his head in the crane of Yuuri's neck, Yuuri choked at his kind words. He was shocked at just how much importance Victor gave his emotions. He would change based off what Yuuri felt? Yuuri floated on the ice with joy at just how much meaning Victor gave him in life. Also, what did he mean by family? Was he referring to Yurio? Did he consider them a family now?

Yuuri decided the best course of action was to shut his mind off and enjoy the moment. He put his hand on the back of Victor's head, his fingers running through his silk hair. The couple moseyed around in each other's arms. There were no major flips or spins. Neither of them showed off or tried to race each other. They lost themselves to the sound of the music and the skates flying them around the ice like a gondola cruising through a river. The sweet bells chiming in the song like a dream come to life.

Time disappeared as they remained on the ice, coveting the other's touch for as long as they could before night fell.

* * *

Meanwhile, in a less melodramatic part of town, Isabel snapped pictures on her phone of the giant castle perched on a hill. Overlooking the ocean, she adjusted her plaid scarf over her pink jacket as Yuri sat on a bench. He crossed his arms in boredom. He sulked inside the hood of his blue hoodie. Stretching his legs hidden in black jeans, he looked over at the excited girl.

"Can we go inside," Yuri whined. "It's freezing out here."

"I thought Russian could handle the cold," Isabel said without looking away from the castle.

"If I was out here for a better reason, maybe I could."

Isabel turned around and pointed at Yuri. "We need to take a selfie."

Yuri glowered at her. "I don't take selfies. I always look bad."

Isabel giggled. "It's no big deal. Nobody really looks good in a selfie. But since you're super famous, nobody will really care."

Yuri rolled his eyes and stood up. He slothed towards Isabel and stood behind her. This girl had way too much energy for an entire day. When she woke him up, he seriously considered killing her for ruining his deep sleep. However, the hyper girl just grabbed his arm and yanked him out of bed, excited to see the town. Like a small kitten, Yuri just could not stay mad at her. Her deep pout when he yelled about sleeping in for the day made his heart melt enough, but then she had to grovel a little bit.

 _"I just want to spend time with you, Yurio,"_ she said while Yuri scowled at her from his bed.

Yuri wished he could go back to the days were he lived around pushovers that did whatever he wanted. Even Yuuri was less likely to do what he ordered. Regardless, Yuri threw on clothes an went out on the town with Isabel. She proceeded to take pictures of every single building and every panhandler beating drum sticks on a trashcan. Hasetsu was a boring town to Yuri. Maybe the summertime would yield some more exciting attractions, but winter was dead and dreary in Japan.

Then again, winter was dead and dreary in Russia and Detroit.

As annoying as Isabel's dumb questions about what a kotatsu was among other things, it was nice to have company. Usually, when Yuuri and Victor ran off on there own in the small town, Yuri stayed in Yu-topia and slept all day. At least Isabel was allowing him fresh air and a change of pace.

And yes, a small tugging at his heart did make him feel good that Isabel was happy.

Isabel held up the phone and held a peace sign. Yuri scowled at the camera.

She put down the phone and turned to face Yuri. "Could you look less like your at a funeral and smile, please?"

Yuri groaned. "I don't smile in pictures. I look weird."

"You're smile is fine, Yurio. In fact, you should do it more often."

"You do it enough for both of us."

Isabel looked forward and held up the phone again. The castle perched in the corner of the frame as Yuri took up the bottom part of the screen, only the top half of his face being visible. His eyes showed apathy as Isabel took the picture.

"Perfect," she said as she put her phone in her jeans pocket. "Let's keep walking."

"We've walked the town twice, Isabel. Can we just relax?"

"And what should we do?"

Yuri's eyes grew as a thought beamed into his head. "I have an idea, but we need to head back to the springs."

* * *

Yuri and Isabel sat on the floor in the cozy bedroom. Tall towers of monochromatic books stacked around them. A candle burned on a nightstand next to the queen sized bed with velvet comforters and blankets draping the mattress.

Isabel gasped as she scoured the pages of the thick book. "Is this even legal to publish?" She asked Yuri

Yuri laughed. Sitting next to her, he looked down at the book she held. "Japanese manga stretches a lot of censorship laws."

Yuri discovered Yuuri's secret manga collection a year ago. The stacks of books hid underneath a broken, squeaky floorboard underneath the turqoise ottoman at the base of the bed. Being an otaku was embarrassing enough, but Yuri had enough dirt on Yuuri from the pages of smut-filled romance manga to make a corrupt politician guffaw in shock.

"The only manga I know about is at the bookstore back home, and they don't have this stuff."

"These are special manga. For the Japanese."

Isabel thrusted the book towards Yuri's lap. "But look, Yuri. He just shoved a popsicle inside her. An entire popsicle. And it was chocolate."

"I told you the Japanese were weird."

"And now she's yelling at him to pour maple syrup on her. That's a big mess."

Yuri yawned. "Already saw that one. Spoiler alert: They're brother and sister."

"What?" Isabel asked. "But I just read one where a brother and sister have sex. You're telling me there is more?"

"Maybe that's what Katsudon is into."

Isabel shivered. "Mister Katsuki is messed up."

"In more ways than one."

"Promise me," Isabel jabbed Yuri with a finger. "You won't read things like this. No wonder Mister Katsuki is so weird."

"What's your excuse for being weird then?"

"It got you to be my boyfriend."

"Good point."

Yuri snagged the manga from her hands and threw it onto the bed. He turned his thin frame and rested his head on her lap. He pointed to his head. At this point in their relationship, a routine had been well established. When Yuri wanted his hair stroked, he wanted it right then and there. It was an elixir to soothe him from the daily stress of being a student and a world-class skater.

"You really like when I stroke your hair, don't you?"

Yuri paused for a second, looking up at her. Him and Isabel were getting more comfortable in each other's presence by the day. He felt himself get more and more effected by how she reacted to things than usual. Being his first real relationship, he wanted to work hard to make sure it went well. He still was not sure how to achieve those goals, but Isabel was thankfully not a girl to demand much from him.

Isabel shook her head like a disappointed mom. "You're the weird one here," she said.

She began to stroke his hair. Yuri flashed a relaxed smile. Her touch made his nerves melt like butter on hot toast.

* * *

 **Another transition chapter before we get to the NHK!**

 **I hope you know that the version of "Just The Two Of Us" used here was NOT the Will Smith song. Although that would be a funny substitute!**

 **How are the characters and dialogue so far? Engaging? Boring? Cheesy? Tell me what needs to happen to make it exciting and fun for you!**

 **As always, do anything you can to support the story. Review as much and as often as possible.**

 **Shout Out Time!**

ChibiRaccoon: Thank you so much, and welcome aboard. I hope you continue to review as much and as well as possible. I hope that little bit of skating helped from Yuuri and Victor.

Erzatscarlett: Thanks for the help! I'm not a geography expert, so I try to piece together what I can. Let me know what I can do to present Detroit better!

MeganAnnabethJackson: I would be interested in seeing what that image would look like, as well. Hopefully, somebody can make that a reality! ;)

 **That's it for now. Give me any suggestions or comments you have! I appreciate and value all of them!**

 **Thank you! See you soon!**


	22. Family Affairs

Yuri felt his legs tighten under the stress of sitting on the floor by the table. He never understood why the Japanese did not sit in chairs like normal human beings at the dinner table. He scanned the rest of the table. Yuuri stuffed his mouth with his mother's steaming katsudon on a giant silver bowl. Victor squeezed his chopsticks together next to his fiancee and snapped at a few grains of rice. His loud voice projected off the paper-thin walls in the dining area as he spoke in his broken English.

"So after we rode that electronic bull, we knocked over a vegetable stand and had to pay for two thousand euros of carrots," Victor said with a laugh.

Yuuri gulped down a strand of slimy noodle and cleared his throat. "Please don't tell my mom this, Victor. It's embarrassing."

Hiroko, the frumpy lady in her large orange wool sweater and white sweatpants waved off Yuuri with an air of dismissal. "Calm down, Yuuri. We all have embarrassing stories. Don't we, Minako?"

Next to his mother, Yuuri's former ballet teacher towered above the shorter lady. Her cocoa hair cascaded down the sides of her head parted in the middle. Unbuttoning her faded blue cardigan, Minako shook her head. "As usual, you embarrass me, Yuuri. You know, every time a new person comes in town, they ask me about you? I say yes, and then they go off about some crazy thing you did and ask me if I taught you that."

Yuuri scratched his neck. "But I don't do crazy stuff."

"At least, not sober," Victor shot back.

With the NHK Trophy competition the next day, Yuri glared at the annoying people while stabbing the wooden chopsticks at the slabs of pork piled on his plate.

Yuri hated this family.

The Russian skater sighed as he shoved a piece of pork in his mouth. Okay, hate was a strong word. They were very annoying to him. They were overly affectionate. Hiroko bear-hugged every single guest, family member, or animal that crossed her path and thanked them for staying at the hot springs. Yuri swore that Katsudon's older sister spied on him every moment as he walked through the town earlier in the day. More people than usual crowded the hot springs, begging for a glimpse at Yuuri. One of the drawbacks of coming from a smaller town like Hasetsu was being too well-known. Paparazzi and cameras flashed outside the doors every time Yuuri so much as crossed the hallway.

The family had decided to use English for any reporters outside, but Yuri knew it was for Isabel's sake. The blonde girl munched on the crackers in the egg-yolk soup with a content smile on her face. The new black and purple kimono she donned wrinkled by the midriff belt that held it up. It was a gift from the Katsuki family, and she loved how the kimono fit on her body. Yuri admitted that he did as well.

Isabel spoke a mile a minute, inquiring about life in Japan during their tour of Hasetsu earlier that day.

" _What's that?" She pointed to a tall yellow monolith displaying black ties._

 _"It's a vending machine for ties," Yuri said as they walked past the train station._

 _"What's that?" She asked again when a businessman crawled out of a small elevated capsule with a bed built into a wall._

 _"It's what travelers sleep in when they get tired," Yuri said in exasperation._

 _"Why do people slurp their food? They're such loud eaters?" She asked when they walked by a noodle shop._

 _"Maybe you should ask someone from Japan," Yuri shot back in an annoyed tone._

He had to admit that he had a nice time regardless. She had never left the country, so he imagined she was more excited than ever to be in a new place. All he requested was that she not talk to anybody and cause distress in the townsfolk. Advice that she promptly ignored by scaring an old lady sweeping a sidewalk about prices on ramen noodles.

Meanwhile, people accosted Yuri as well. He liked to spend time alone or with Otabek before a big competition whenever possible. Yuri eschewed into a large crowd of yelling and drunk asians was not on his agenda for the day.

Minako drained the sake in her ceramic silver bowl and slammed it down on the flat wooden table. Stretching her neck, she hiccuped like a mouse before peering at Yuri. "So... You're competing tomorrow," she said in a slurred voice.

Yuri gazed into her bloodshot grey eyes. "If I survive tonight, maybe."

Minako ticked her tongue at the smaller skater. "That's the problem with you, Yurio. All talk, no action. You see, if you trained with me and Yuuri here," she slurred while jabbing a finger at Yuuri's chest. "You would be top of the world right now."

Yuri fumed as he crossed his arms. Thinking about her inebriated state, he decided to keep his cool for now. "I'm already one of the best, lady."

"But not the best," Minako said. She snorted at him as she stretched her neck again. "You weren't as good as Yuuri, were you?"

Yuri grit his pearly teeth and clenched his fist underneath the table. "Yes, I am," He seethed. "I beat him once."

"But you didn't beat him the next year? And now look?"

Yuuri's stomach rumbled with anxiety, and it was not from the katsudon. His chest tightened and his heartbeat raced with anticipation at a full blown argument. Conflict detection was a sixth sense to the young man. He reached over to Minako and rubbed her shoulder. "Minako, maybe you should calm down."

Minako huffed before swatting his large hand away. "I'm defending you, Yuuri," she said. "This guy talks shit about you all the time."

Victor nodded to himself in agreement, thinking back to the times Yuri insulted his fiancee. Yuuri, spotting this from the corner of his eyes, jabbed Victor in the gut with his elbow. Victor heaved over in pain as Yuuri tried to keep a straight face. "Yuri isn't like that anymore, Minako."

"Can we please not have this language at the table? The guests might get upset," Hiroki said.

Minako laughed, ignoring Yuuri's mother. "Really? Yurio is a changed leaf?"

"For the most part."

Minako rolled her eyes and turned to the angry skater. "Yurio here is always causing problems," she said. "He bullied you and called you names and threatened you for...how long was it? Two years? And you actually live with him now? That's fucked up, Yuuri. And then he tries to drag this...American in the mix?" She said while pointing to Isabel, clear mirth disguised in her voice.

Yuri felt a fire shoot up through his veins. He sat upright in his seat as his eyes bulged in a threatening glare. He deflected personal insults like a knight taking arrows on chinked armor. For some reason, a new kind of anger flowed up his spine as his fists clenched again underneath the table. He was fine with attacks on him, but attacks on Isabel were declarations of war. He knew that some people online had said some rude things about him and her, but they had zero issues in real life so far. It was about time

Minako, oblivious to any warning signs, giggled. "I mean, you could have done better, Yurio. Yeah, you're pretty, little girl," she said as she waved around a chopstick and pointed it at her like a magician's wand. "But you are way out of your league here."

"Minako, calm down," Yuuri said. "I've never seen you this drunk."

"I'm not drunk, Yuuri," Minako shouted. "I just hate that you're throwing your life away for this brat."

Yuri got up from his seated position. Glaring down at Minako, he turned his nose up at her. His fists clenched by his side as he bit his sharp tongue. The pain kept his vocal chords from firing at the table. Insults flashed through his brain like lightening striking a small tree.

A small voice told him to walk away.

It surprised Yuri. He was not above bullying or insulting people to shake them up in competition. Sure, he was not afraid of voicing his opinion on people, but there was a small electrocution of passivity that made Yuri not want to shout out in anger. Not to mention, the guests would no doubt record the exchange and put it around the world. Yelling at a famous ballet studio owner would not help his popularity.

Damn it, he thought. Victor brainwashed me. I'm not supposed to give a shit about popularity.

Flashing one last dagger stare at Minako, he turned around. It was not worth the trouble. He stomped over the soy sauce stains splotched on the crimson carpet. Turning the corner, he vanished.

Waves of confusion splashed over Yuuri as he wiggled in his spot. He looked over with a small frown of pity at Isabel. She sipped a glass of water, a small twinkle reflecting from her eyes as she smiled in her glass. Yuuri had to admire her positivity in this awkward situation. Victor had an unreadable expression as he stared at Minako. He drummed his fingers on the table as the occupants at the table wallowed in silence. The ticking grandfather clock in the corner swung a golden pendulum, signaling the speedy travel of time.

Minako raised an eyebrow. "Why are you smiling?"

Isabel held the light champagne glass of water with a small smile. "You're just funny when you speak English, lady. You have the weirdest accent."

Victor bowed his head, trying to stifle a laugh. He covered his face with his hand while Yuuri looked at Minako.

The tall dancer shook her head. "I need more wine," she reached for a bottle on the table.

"You drink that a lot?" Isabel asked while poitning at the bottle of mimosa.

"None of your business, American."

"You say that like it is an insult."

"It is."

Isabel laughed. "At least we have normal beds. You all sleep on the floor."

"That is true," Victor pipped up. "Why is that, Yuuri?"

Just as Yuuri was about to answer, Victor's phone rang. The Russian man took the vibrating device from his pant pocket and looked at the screen. He wiped his smile away and replaced it with a frown.

"It's Yakov."

Yakov? That old, creepy guy from Russia? Yuuri tilted his head in confusion. "Why's he calling?"

Victor grabbed the edge of the table and pushed himself to his feet. He placed the phone on his ear and turned around. "I have to take this."

Meanwhile, Minako shrugged as Isabel leaned forward on the table. "Sorry, lady, but America is a dumb place. Especially where your from."

Isabel crossed her arms and stretched her smile. "And where am I from?"

"Detroit," Minako spat out. "That place Yuuri was in. I had to visit him there for five years, and it was hell. Awful cars, awful food, awful weather. It looks like a bomb went off and you all have been rebuilding the place since."

Yuuri took a breath, ready to interject. however, he noticed a peculiar sight from the corner of his eye. Isabel had stopped smiling and leaned closer to Minako at the head of the table. She did not look mad, per se. Anger was not an emotion he thought the peppy blonde from America was capable of harboring. Instead, there was a quiet contemplation on her face that Yuuri had never seen from her before.

"Clearly, you were just driving around Eight Mile during that time, right?"

"Huh?"

"The rough parts," Isabel said. "Hasetsu has rough parts, too. Although, I guess with all of that ballet money, you don't have to deal with people like us, right?"

"That's not what she meant, Isabel," Yuuri said.

"You didn't stop by Bell Isle Park, right?" Isabel asked, ignoring Yuuri's interjection. "That island with the old aquarium. It's beautiful in summertime."

"Ugh," Minako groaned. "Of course not."

"How about the Greektown casino? I bet you never had the steak at the ground floor restaurant. Or how about the Fox Theatre. Saw anything there?"

Minako shook her head in frustration. "No. I didn't do any of th-."

"Hitsville USA?" Isabel shot back. "I heard you humming a Marvin Gaye song when you walked in."

"It was just on the radio. It doesn't mean I like i-."

"Ford Field? The MGM Grand? Hart Plaza?"

"I don't care about that. Shut up."

"I bet you never walked the Riverfront at night," Isabel said as she began to smile. "Walking down as the waves from the River hit the shore. I bet you never saw the skaters at Campus Martius. You never saw how people just light up when they eat their first Gyro from Greektown. Well, let me tell you something," she said as she reared her head up to the Drunk Minako's ear. "I have seen that. I saw a guy who hated everything dance to Motown and eat ribs at Green Dot Stables like a starving man on an island."

She departed from Minako's personal space and sat back in her spot. Chuckling, she grabbed her glass of water and lifted it up to her mouth. "There's hope for you, though. If a Russian guy who hates everything can grow to like an American like myself, maybe you'll see things differently when you visit us in Detroit."

Awe transpired on Yuuri's face as he stared at the content and relaxed Isabel. With such an impassioned speech, Yuuri could not believe it came from her. She seemed defensive, almost possessive throughout the exchange with Minako. All he could do was gaze, mouth agape, as he processed the surprising defense of her hometown. Yuuri could also not help the small glint of happiness that Isabel stood up to Minako. He could never do it. The hours of discipline and high expectations made her demanding and unapologetic at her level of strictness at Yuuri.

As Isabel sipped from her cup, Yuuri turned around and spotted his mom. She shrugged and continued to eat her katsudon.

The table remained silent until footsteps rumbled across the floor. Victor popped out of the hallway he disappeared in. His face was bright red, and his eyes were nearly blood shot. He looked like he had just run a marathon with the disheveled appearance on his face.

"Victor? What happened to you?" Yuuri asked.

"I need to talk to you and Isabel. Now."

* * *

"So what's the problem?"

The three of them were crowded in a small bedroom. The twin sized bed rested on a yellow wooden frame, leaving imprints on the mocha carpet. A dim crystal chandelier swung like a lazy fan over them, raining down light refracted from the fake gems. A large mahogany nightstand rested in front of the bed. The rest of the tangerine-walled room was bare, save for a picture of an angel with a white overcoat and wings hovering over the planet Earth. The painting hung on the wall above the wooden bed headboard. Isabel made a note to ask Yuri about the religion people had in Japan.

Yuuri and Isabel stood together as Victor stood next to the bed, his back pressing on the wall.

"Why do you always assume there's a problem, Mister Katsuki?" Isabel asked, craning her head towards Yuuri with a smile.

"Usually, there is."

They both looked at Victor. The normally jocular man seemed distraught with his gray hair sticking up in the back of his head. Sweat glistened at his hairline while Victor licked his chapped lips. Rubbing his face, he swallowed in anxiety.

"I just got a call from Yakov."

Yuuri frowned to himself. "Yurio's coach from Russia?"

Victor nodded. "He just called to tell me something happened to Nikolai."

Based off Yuuri's gasp, Isabel could tell that the conversation took a very dark turn. She tugged on Yuuri's sleeve of his button-down black dress shirt. "Nikolai?"

Yuuri thrusted his glasses to the top of his nose. "Yuri's grandfather," he said to Isabel.

"So that's his name," Isabel said, her face lighting up with recognition. "He always talks about him, but he never told me the name."

"So what happened?" Yuuri asked to Victor.

A long pause. Victor shook his head and dug his bare feet into the dry carpet. He appeared unhinged, like an angry dog pacing around a pen. "You can't tell Yuri about this. Neither of you," he said in a swift voice. "At least, we can't tell him until after NHK."

"Victor, what is it?"

Another pause. Victor felt another wave of stings pricking at his moist electric blue eyeballs.

"There was an accident a few hours ago. Involving his motorcycle."

"So...so is he..."

"Is he okay?" Isabel asked, interrupting Yuuri's morbid line of questioning.

Victor tried to hold back tears. He pursued his lips together and jolted his head sideways. "Yuuri, it's really bad."

"How bad?"

"He's in a hospital in Moscow," Victor said in a perturbed voice. "I called up the hospital. They told me about what happened. He has internal bleeding, and he broke his arms. He's...he's not waking up."

"But what about recovery?" Isabel asked. "How long until he gets out."

"He's not getting out, Izzy." Victor said in a low voice. "They told me to get over there by the end of the weekend to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" Yuuri spat out in shock.

Victor shushed Yuuri. "This is why I brought you in here," he spoke in a hushed tone. "We can't tell Yuri until after NHK. We don't want to risk not qualifying for the Grand Prix."

"Who cares about that?" Isabel asked in surprise. Victor's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as Isabel took a step closer to him. "I mean, I know this is all important, but we're talking about his grandpa. I...Look. I know I haven't been apart of all of this," Isabel waved her arms around, gesturing at the room. "Very long, but we can't just not tell him."

"If we tell him, there's no way Yuri skates," Victor said. "You know he'll quit the moment he hears about it.

"Victor," Yuuri said. "We need to think about Yuri. What if someone tells him about Nikolai at NHK."

Victor shook his head. "Yakov already contacted all the skaters. Otabek, Mila, Christophe, even J.J. They know, and they won't say anything."

"The reporters?"

"We cancelled the press conferences after the skates. We told them we have a tight schedule, and they bought it."

"And what if he dies before the end of the weekend, Victor?" Yuuri asked.

"Mister Katsuki," Isabel gasped out in shock. "Don't say that. He'll make i-."

"And what if he doesn't?" Yuuri interrupted. "What if he dies and Yuri found out he could have seen his grandfather one more time?"

"I-I don't kn-."

"What if he finds out we hid it from him?" Isabel asked.

"We'll have to try an-."

"What if someone in the stands tells him?"

"This is what he signed up for!" Victor shouted.

Yuuri and Isabel looked at each other like they had just seen a giant fire-breathing dragon. The heavy breathing from Victor reflected the exasperated expression plastered on his face. Hearing Victor shout was shocking to both of them. To Isabel, it was like a young child seeing a mall Santa unmasked on the sidewalk the day after Christmas. She never saw the frustrated, upset side of Victor before. Looking into Yuuri's dark eyes, she knew that he rarely saw this side either.

Yuuri gulped and turned back to Victor. "What do you mean?" He whispered.

Victor took a deep breath. "This is what he signed up for," he said. "We make sacrifices as skaters. We make our families spend thousands of dollars and thousands of hours supporting us. They make that sacrifice, and they know what they're getting into. You know, I practiced almost twelve hours a day in my prime. You think my family missed me?"

"I don't know, Victor. You never tell me about your family." Yuuri said.

"Don't bring them up," Victor said with a dark tone. "I don't need to talk about them. I'm just using them as an example. Yuri made these choices a long time ago. He's his own person."

"If you think that," Isabel said. She rested her hand on Victor's shoulder, rubbing her thumb in a calming circle. "Then we should ask him. Let him make that decision." She looked right into Victor's eyes.

"Isabel is right," Yuuri said. "It's the right thing to do, Victor. I know you care about him winning and qualifying, but..."

"But what?" Victor asked, looking past Isabel and her comforting touch to Yuuri.

"Some things are bigger than ice skating, Victor. That's what you told me when we got engaged. Remember?"

Victor knew the predicament was far greater than he could fathom at the moment. Yuri was, at the end of the day, only a kid. He was barely old enough to drive a car in the United States. Having the skating world on his shoulders was pressure enough, but his motivation and drive to skate would be crushed with his grandfather gone. Yuri was a good person. He yelled and he said bad things about people, but he worked hard. He knew right versus wrong. In the past few months, he even learned a thing or two about treating people with respect and love. Victor did not want to erase all of that effort into skating and life.

Yuri was a human being, though. He had a chance to make different choices. There was a reason he never spoke about his family to Yuuri. He was selfish and angry at one point in his life. Around Yuri's age, in fact. He drove people away and never faced his emotions until his family and friends were gone and replaced with the sound of slushing ice underneath his feet as he practiced for hours by himself in the empty ice rink. That could be the reason why he pushed Isabel so hard on Yuri in the first place. He would rather jump off a building than see him repeat his same mistakes.

Victor gave up one more sigh. He grabbed Isabel's hand and clasped it in his. They were warm.

"So what do you think, Victor?" Isabel asked. "You're his coach."

"I'm more than his coach," Victor said. "And your his girlfriend. I don't know if you realize this, but you two have an obligation to each other. Your jobs are to make the other as happy as possible. I want you two to be happy so much, Izzy," Victor said with a sad smile. He squeezed her hand as Isabel looked up at him. "I know the 'L word' is a strong one for people your age, but I see it. I see it whenever Yuri comes home with you talking about some dumb thing a classmate did and how Yuri actually laughs once in a while. Yuri never stops talking about you or your eyes or how you bring him so much comfort. He was so alone, Isabel. He'll never admit it, but you made his life so much better to live. You did all of that, so I want to ask you right now...what would make Yuri the happiest in the long run?"

"Tell him," Isabel shot back without hesitation. "If we do, he'll hate what's happening. If we don't...he'll hate the people that never told him."

"And NHK?" Yuuri asked.

Victor closed his eyes. "His call. Whatever it is, it will be the right one."

* * *

 **Drama alert! Night before a big contest, and this bombshell?! It looks like they will tell him, but how will he react?**

 **Question of the day: If one of the characters from Yuri on Ice (or this fic, just saying) came to life and you could spend a day with him or her, who would it be and what would you do? I would probably choose Yurio and spend the day showing him my silly little fanfiction. My second choice would be JJ. I'd spend the day making fun of him and showing him all of the insulting memes of himself. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too depressed after the day is over.**

 **As always, thank you for your patience and expertise in reading. I hope you all review as much as you can. I also hope you spread word about this as much as you can.**

 **How was the chapter? Were the scenes good? Minako is a very rude drunk, isn't she? I wonder why.**

 **Characters and dialogue were decent? How about the plot progression so far? I'd say we are a little over halfway through what I have planned, so expect more laughs and tears. Hey, kind of like the anime!**

 **No review shout outs today. Far too busy! I'll have to get them some other time.**

 **Thank you so much. I love all of my followers and reviewers. Take the time to tell me any of your thoughts so far! It only takes a moment, but it means the world to me to go back and read through them and become an even better writer so I can provide the best entertainment for you!**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	23. Tragedy

Steam floated into the moist air above the shimmering onsen. The hot water lapped around the stone edges of the old poll as Yuri sulked in the massaging liquid. A frown plastered on his face, his head was a fuzz above the water's surface while the saltwater cocooned the rest of his body like an electric wool blanket. The rest of the onsen was empty, only the sounds of lazed splashes and Yuri's breathing broke the reverie surrounding the springs.

Normally, Yuri could not stand the onsens. Victor forced him to go into them with him and Yuuri. All Yuri could do was sit in the water until his skin pruned while Victor trained (flirted) with Yuuri. The water also felt weird to Yuri. His skin was not used to the pure water lathering his skin, boiling from the volcanic energy underneath Japan's surface. In stressful times, he did find the solitude of a late night dip enticing. His muscles relaxed in the water. His legs dangles in the dark water like an astronaut's floating in the stars twinkling above Hasetsu.

Yuri never hit it off with Yuri's family (or anyone's family for that matter). The people of Hasetsu were far too friendly and honest for his taste. He attracted attention with every turn, and the spotlight annoyed him when it was not for his skating. Yuri never bothered to learn Japanese, so most of his interaction with the family was either interpreted through Victor or deciphered through broken, haphazard english. Yuuri's mother and father were grossly affectionate with each other. Not only that, but they were far too nice to the other guests for Yuri's comfort. Niceness was cause for suspicion for Yuri, so he hesitated to say much around them.

Minako pissed him off from her harsh words. As he closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the stone ledge of the springs, he thought back to their argument. He knew the words from her was the alcohol siphoning thoughts from her brain, not how she actually felt. However, the anger that boiled like the bubbles elevating to the surface of the hot water was too much for Yuri to handle without exploding. He was sure an apology would come later.

Mari was okay. Sure, she compared him to a bad drummer from some stupid band one time, but she was laid back and relaxed. Yuri thought she was adopted, but said nothing. The only person he could stand in Japan was Yuuko, and he had not seen the doe-eyes short skater the entire visit so far. She was far too busy being a mother of three, no doubt.

Footsteps clanked on the charcoal cobblestone surrounding the hot springs. Yuri lowered himself further into the water, letting out a deep sigh underwater. He knew this peace would not last long.

"Hey, Yuri."

Yuri shifted his gaze towards the onsen's entrance. Isabel saw Yuri soaking in the water. His slim shoulders had streams of water running down them as his long blonde locks captured some droplets dripping off the tips. The sight made her smile wider to cover the light blush on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Yuri said with a twinge of annoyance. "This is the men's onsen."

"Is that what they're called? Onsen?"

Yuri scoffed. "I guess. That's what Katsudon calls them." He said. He shifted his body to face her. "But what are you doing here?"

"Oh," Isabel interjected. "Mister Katsuki's mom said it was okay. Nobody comes here at this time of day."

"Why do you call him that?" Yuri asked.

"Mister Katsuki?" Isabel repeated. Yuri nodded. She blinked a few times before giving a terse shrug. "I guess I just never felt comfortable calling him the other name."

"Fine, but what are you doing here?" Yuri asked.

"Uh..." Isabel trailed off. For as odd a sight it was to see Yuri in the hot springs, she needed to give him he serious news fast. Speaking with Victor and Yuuri, the three decided it would be best to have her deliver the news about his grandfather. It may allow Yuri to have a less violent reaction. "I need to tell you something, but I think we should do it somewhere else."

"Why?"

"Because it would be better for both of us if I told you this when you weren't naked," she said with a blunt tone.

Yuri smirked while raising an eyebrow. "Does me being naked distract you?"

"I think it would distract most people," Isabel said.

As fast as a cat jumping into the sky out of fright, Yuri rose out of the water. Isabel gasped, preparing herself for the sight. However, the shock was subdued when she gaed at Yuri's body. He was slim, but his chest was very solid as strong muscles shaped his arms. There was nary an ounce of useless fat on the active skater as water traced his abdominal muscles jutting from his chest down to his slim waist. Blue swim trunks clung to his hips as Isabel stared.

She covered her mouth, admiring her boyfriend's beautiful toned, porcelain-skinned body.

Yuri craned his neck in confusion. He looked around, making sure nobody else was spying on them. He cleared his throat. "Is there a problem?"

Isabel broke out of her pause and shook her head like she was swatting a fly away. "Nope. Just never knew how well built you ice skaters were."

Yuri rolled his eyes as he climbed on the ledge to his feet. "I always wear trunks in the onsen," he said as he made it to his feet. "I'd rather die than be around those two idiots naked.

He walked up to Isabel and put his hands on his hips. "Do you want to go to my room? My clothes are in there."

"Sure."

Yuri sighed. "Could you stop staring please?"

Isabel blinked before coming back to reality. "Oh, right. Yes, we need to talk. Let's go."

* * *

"Can we hurry up, please?" Yuri asked after he cleared his throat. "We got to wake up early tomorrow."

After Yuri put on a loose fitting red sweatshirt and black sweatpants (much to Isabel's dismay), he sat down on the hard twin bed. Velvet duvet crumpled underneath his figure as he sat slouched on the edge of the bed. The tiny room had thin, obsidian walls with a nightstand next to the bed, which laid horizontal across the wall opposite the front door, taking up the whole side of the room. His room overlooked the small town, this part of Yu-Topia perched on a short mound. A window rested by the edge of the bed. Dim ivory moonlight flowed through the window as small buildings dotted the night skyline of Hasetsu.

Yuri flicked on the switch. An onyx lantern bolted to the wall over the nightstand snapped on to life, warm tungsten light illuminating the corner of the room by the bed headboard. It was not a very powerful lamp. Isabel stood in front of the closed oak door. She looked down at Yuri's black slippers clung to his feet over the hardwood floor.

Isabel snagged a deep breath of thick air from the warm room. She looked up at Yuri's eyes, unsure of what to say. She had never dealt with a situation like this before, and she was worried about the mystery that Yuri's reaction would hold. He looked tense enough, squeezing the comforter fabric under clenched fists. This potential tragedy would be hard to calm him down from. Knowing Yuri for roughly three months, there were still so many secrets and tics that made them stay up at night, wondering what they would do to break the relationship.

Isabel ran her hands through the soft silk of her hair. "Victor and Yuuri thought it would be best to tell you."

Yuri raised an eyebrow. "Well, it can't be good if they don't have the balls to tell me. What is it?"

Isabel paused for a second. Her thoughts raced in a long jumble before she snatched one from the air. "It's about your grandfather."

Annoyance vanished from Yuri's face. His frown dropped into an open gaze of shock. His mouth hung dormant while his eyes grew wide in size, as if he had crashed on the ice after a bad landing. A cold chill froze his back as his face grew as white as the snow flurries raining from the sky outside the window. Even his heart rammed into his chest.

His grandfather was in perfect health. Sure, he had the occasional drink an pirozhki was not the healthiest food, but he jogged in the morning. He was not obese. Maybe he was visiting him in Japan. Perhaps he had invited Isabel to see him. A whole myriad of excuses hustled through Yuri's head as he stared at Isabel.

"What happened?" He said with dreaded hesitance.

Isabel winced at the tone of fear mixed with what she thought was anger. "There was...an accident. He crashed his motorcycle."

"What do you mean he fucking crashed his motorcycle?" Yuri said in a slow crescendo. "He's been riding that since I was little. He wouldn't have crashed."

Isabel swallowed to alleviate her parched mouth. "Yuri, he's in the hospital right now, and we ne-."

"Fuck that," Yuri said in a louder voice. "Po'shyol 'na hui. He's not in the hospital."

Anxiety creeped over Isabel's shoulders as Yuri became more frustrated. Yuri stood up, a face of fury etched on his face. His fists remained clenched by his side as he stood straight in front of Isabel, as if he was defending himself from an attack.

"He is. Yuri, I'm sorry, but he is in the hospital. We wanted to ask if you wanted to see him."

Yuri gritted his teeth. "Otva`li,`suka. Eto piz`dets," he cursed in Russian.

Isabel began to reach her hand out to touch Yuri's shoulder. "I can't understand you, Yuri. I don't know Russia-."

"Shut up."

Yuri smacked her hand away as he yelled, causing Isabel to gasp in shock. The small sting as his hand collided with hers was brisk and sharp, like a baby bee pricking skin. Isabel felt like he had just slapped her on the cheek. Yuri had pushed her away or took her hands of his person before, but the malevolence and anger of this swat that actually hurt made her chest tighten like she was drowning in water.

Yuri glared at her and sneered as she swayed on the spot, her face frozen in shock. Yuri had no idea what to think. This girl was getting on his last nerve, and to give him news like this was a line not to be crossed. Grandpa was fine, he thought. He just needed to give him a call. The man was invincible. Even if he fell, he could take a hit. There was not way that the man that scared away ghosts under his bed when he was little could be in such jeopardy.

"You're lying," Yuri said. "You're fucking lying to me. He's not in the hospital."

Isabel blinked a few times, attempting to remain calm. "Yuri, he's in the hospital, and he has internal bleeding."

Yuri choked as air rushed from his lungs. He felt like a boxer punched him in the gut.

This had to be a cruel prank. A sick joke by somebody. This could not be happening to him.

However, Isabel's expression of surprise and pity made this nightmare more real. She was not an actress. Isabel was a real person, and she had yet to do one malicious thing to him yet.

His body began to tremble like a collapsing building. White knuckled popped up on his clenched fists as he squeezed harder, as if it was the only action to keep him from breaking. He blinked in a brisk pattern, attempting to keep the tears at bay in his sea-foam eyes.

"Will he...be okay?" He asked.

Isabel held her hand that collided with Yuri's and rubbed a reddening spot on her palm. She looked down at her shoes, unable to look Yuri in the eye. The silence gave away all he needed to know about the predicament.

"Will he be okay?"

"Yuri...he may not make it through the weekend."

Yuri roiled his head in disbelief. "This makes no fucking sense," he choked out. "He's my family. He's all I have. I don't have anybody else to go to. He...he gave me my first pair of skates. I haven't even told him about us in person." he said in an unsettled voice.

With the gentleness of a child petting a kitten, Isabel rested her uninjured hand on Yuri's shoulder. "Yuri..."

Yuri swallowed to rid the lump in his throat, but it only tightened harder as it blocked his airways. Tears began to run down his porcelain cheeks. "He gave me my first skates, Izzy. He taught me how to ride a fucking bike. He l-let me live in that house when there was nowhere else to go. This isn't fair. It's not f-fair. Why can't I ju-just have one...thing in my life? Why can't I be happy?"

Isabel grew sadder at Yuri as he began to cry. The boy felt far worse. He was sad, depressed, but mostly angry. Rage at the world boiled in Yuri for taking away his grandfather. He was angry at Yuuri and Victor for taking him away from Russia. He was angry at himself for yelling at his girlfriend. He was embarrassed that he was crying like a newborn baby.

Seeing how Yuri was still clenching his fists, Isabel took a step towards him. Standing the same height, it was easy for her to wrap her arms around him. With gradual caution, she eased her arms around Yuri's chest.

She hugged him.

The Russian skater drew in a quick breath and remained stiff, unfamiliar with the hug as a warmth spread from Isabel to Yuri. The Russian man choked on his words, trying to get her away from him and avoid the embarrassment of breaking down. However, something shut him up as she squeezed him harder. Her lukewarm breath tickled the side of his cheek as he fought more tears from coming down.

"I know what this feels like, Yuri," Isabel whispered. "Don't hold it in. I'm here for you."

Yuri needed no other permission. With the stress of school, the Grand Prix, the NHK, keeping up with friends and family, and now his grandfather, he released the dam holding back his emotions. His arms, formerly stiff by his side, swung up and enveloped Isabel to return her hug. The lump in his throat disappeared as he moaned out a guttural cry. Tears escaped down his cheek, his shoulders and back shaking with the intensity of his cries. He buried his shoulder into the soft cloth of Isabel's shirt, muffling the sounds vibrating from his charred vocal chords.

Isabel hugged tighter, resting her head on Yuri's shoulder. Her embrace conveyed more warmth and love than anything he had felt in a long time. Although he still did not know what she meant when she said she empathized with him, he did not care at the moment. He cried, releasing the stress and anxiety scalding his heart.

Yuri relied on this strange girl from Detroit to not let him fall apart in her arms. She held on to him for as long as he needed.

Neither of them knew how long they stood in each other's arms. The moon was well above them, revolving in the sky to return to it's sleep beneath the horizon.

* * *

Yuuri and Victor put down their books when the door squeaked open. They looked up at Isabel, a solemn expression rested on her heart-shaped face. Her shirt was slightly disheveled, a damp spot darkening the color on the shoulder.

"Is he okay?" Yuuri asked.

Isabel nodded. "He took it better than you said he would."

She walked to the side of the bed, sitting down on an ivory love seat resting next to Victor's side of the bed. She sat down and looked over at the two in the bed.

"He wants to skate."

* * *

 **So some drama happening. Will Nikolai make it okay? Will there be a dramatic deathbed scene? What did Isabel mean when she said she knew about feeling this way? What about NHK? Will Yuri perform well at the competition?**

 **Still so many, and only so many words to explain it all!**

 **As always, make sure to review and tell others to review as well. It only takes a minute or two, but it means the world to me as far as writing and creating an entertaining product. Any amount of words will be appreciated, but constructive reviews are loved at all times.**

 **Question time: If you magically transported in Yuri on ice, what would you do? Use your imagination!**

 **Response Time to some reviews!**

bstarqueen: Thanks for reviewing as usual. I'm very hopeful that my writing is well-paced. Too often do I see people take big moments and squeeze them into only a couple hundred words. Honestly, I think Yuri On Ice needed to stretch some big moments for a few more seconds as well.

Erzatscarlett: I hope your not depressed enough to not review. This was a tough chapter, but I think Yuri feels a little better about what is going on. He needed to release at some point.

llMysticalIcell: Thank you so much for revieweing! I'm pleased you love my work so far, and I hope you tell me what I can do so you can love it more! As for Yuri and Isabel kissing, we will see when they are comfortable with that. Maybe it's next chapter, maybe it's the one after that. I don't know, frankly!

 **I will answer any questions and possibly implement any suggestions you have. Send them in if you have any!**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	24. NHK Trophy: Short

Fukuoka, Japan awoke with a frenzy of trains and buses zooming from the station. Perched in the shadow of the red spire in the Hakata Port, the station had brick walls with large signs tacked everywhere to alert people of train times and weather reports. The rising sun kissed the tips of the tall buildings lining the downtown area. The morning air flowed through the city, crisp and immaculate as if it had been washed before release into the sky. A chill rammed through the outdoor station; wind racing in from the ocean resting next to the town. Boats sailed across the water like marbles rolling on a table. The skyscrapers outside had a modern design to them, rising above the shore like lighthouses guiding the large ships to the harbor. It was a nice but spacious sea-side city, reminiscent of Detroit hovering over the Lake St. Clair.

Victor brushed a rouge strand of fabric from his white sweatshirt and hoodie. His pale quartz eyes scanned the commuters and salarymen roaming around the train station. Some of them hurried along to their jobs like honey bees rushing to assist the queen. He smiled with amusement to himself, thinking of them like rats running on an infinite treadmill. Looking behind him, his smile faltered for a smidgen.

Yuri trudged behind him with his classic white hoodie wrapped around him like rice around pirozhki. Spacious charcoal gray sweatpants clung to his slim waist as he moseyed over the dull marble floor in black sneakers. His blonde hair was frazzled, sticking up in different directions. His skin shone a pale luster underneath the fluorescent lighting in the station. Both hands hid in his pant pockets. He held his down, noticing the minuscule cracks running through the old floor. What concerned Victor was the blank faraway glance in Yuri's eyes. The prominent veins running around the whites emphasized the dark circles bagged underneath them. He made no small talk or major preparations, simply doing what Victor told him in the morning.

Even Isabel, who typically said more words in the morning than an average person through a whole day, did nothing but walk next to Yuri. Her typical wide smile almost gone from her face. Keeping Yuri motivated to succeed was going to be harder than Victor thought before the bad news the day before.

Not to mention, a creeping feeling invaded the back of Victor's mind that they should all be on a plane to Moscow instead of skating in Japan.

Yuuri wore his pinstripe blazer and suit. Pushing up his thin-rimmed eyeglasses, he took out his smartphone and stopped at Victor's side. "I'll call the cab."

Victor faced Yuuri with an inquisitive look. Yuuri tilted his head back to the lagging Yuri, motioning to him. "I didn't think it would be a good idea if we carpooled with anyone today."

Victor remained mute.

* * *

Otabek Altin considered himself a simple person.

The tall Khazaki man leaned on a silver rail going up stairs towards the dressing rooms. His red jacket draped around his broad shoulders with his tight red sweatshirt clinging to his bulky body. Chewing on a piece of raspberry gum, he peered down the long hallway for any sign of Yuri. Fumbling with the small smartphone in his black pant pocket, he looked down at the screen. No new notifications rang on the face.

Otabek shook his head to himself. The past day in Japan had been hectic. His flight from Almaty took off from the rough runway six hours late. When he landed, the Japanese translator that they were supposed to receive never showed up. The next couple of hours were spent pantomiming words with his hands and deciphering the broken english on the transportation signs.

Flavor vanished from his mouth, leaving a tough wad of viscous gum for him to chew. He grunted in annoyance as he popped in another dry stick into his mouth. The pineapple scent flowed into his nose as the taste cascaded down his throat with every bite. The clock on his phone ticked off another minute. With an hour before the short program, Otabek released a deep breath into the stiff air in the walkway. The mustard yellow walls surrounding him obscured by walking reporters and stadium staff.

He grew worried about Yuri. He had not texted him since the day before the competition. He had called, texted, and even private messaged him on Twitter, but he had heard nary a whisper from the shorter Russian blonde.

Otabek heard the news about his grandfather, and he wanted to encourage him to keep skating. Message after message of pep talk led to no response, and he was left with no choice but to go to the arena and hope he showed up. It's not like Otabek could ask anybody. Either he embarrassed himself trying to cross the language barrier with other skaters, or he had no charisma to back up his skating. None of the other skaters talked to Otabek before a competition; he proved to unshakable to deal with petty talk.

A hand smacked his shoulder. "Hey there, Altin!"

Well, most skaters knew better.

Otabek turned around and came face to face with Jean-Jacques Leroy. The Canadian skater with his obsidian undercut-styled hair and denim blue eyes smiled at Otabek. Already strapped into his olive skating outfit with shimmering periwinkle stripes running down the sides, he adjusted the cobalt cuffs on his wrists and licked his lips. Releasing Otabek from his grip, he crossed his arms and leaned back on his heels.

"So, what's going on with you?"

Otabek looked up at the ceiling, hoping an angel would come down and whisk him away from the annoying Canadian. Seeing that there would be no savior, he gazed back at the jocular skater. "I...not much," he spoke in rough English. "Have you heard anything about Yuri?"

J.J. shook his head. "Nothing. I even asked Guang Hong and Christophe, but they haven't heard anything. And you know if they haven't heard any news, nobody has. Nothing gets past them in the gossip mill," J.J. said with a chuckle. "Other than that, nothing on social media. When that little lady of yours wants to disappear, he vanishes like a magician, doesn't he?"

Otabek inwardly rolled his eyes. J.J. still had that habit of comparing Yuri to a girl. What J.J. did not see was the passion and fury that burned in Yuri's eyes every time he thought about skating. He never noticed the gravel in his voice when he talked about being the best skater in the world. What J.J. saw as melodrama in Yuri was motivation to Otabek.

He spoke up. "What are you doing here?"

J.J. put his hand on his heart in a dramatic fashion. "I'm just checking up on an old friend before the competition."

"I'm not your friend."

J.J. gasped. "But I gave you that dollar at Skate America three years ago!"

"Yeah. A Canadian dollar. It didn't work in the vending machine."

J.J. rubbed his forehead in mock stress. "Okay," he said when he looked into Otabek's charcoal eyes. "I really just wanted to know if Yuri is going to skate. It's going to suck massive balls if he can't. Not only am I not going to be able to beat him, but he won't qualify for the Finals in Doha if he drops out."

Otabek nodded at him. The Grand Prix Finals seemed like a space trip to Mars away. In reality, they were scheduled for a month from the Skate Canada competition which was next week. He could not even imagine flying down to Qatar for the tournament just yet. So much was still happening before he reached that peak.

"You know," J.J. said while placing his hand on the wall and leaning on it like a model during a photoshoot. "We're not getting any younger, Altin. Christophe and Michele already announced this is their last go around the circuit. You know Michele, right? The guy that has a thing for his sister?"

"Nobody has proven that yet."

"Anyway," J.J. continued. "Even Emil is thinking of hanging up the skates. I don't want to let Yuri slip away before I can beat him in competition. What I'm saying is that opportunities like these are going to disappear pretty quickly."

"Opportunities like what?" A voice said behind J.J. He straightened up, abandoning his position leaning on the wall and whipped himself around.

Victor stood with a small smile on his face. Crossing his arms, he stared at J.J. with a mysterious, yet content look on his face. Next to him, Isabel stood next to him, the top of her head meeting his shoulder height. She wore her normal bright smile, flashing ivory teeth while looking at J.J.

Otabek took this moment to turn around and leave the area. Seeing them confirmed to him that Yuri was most likely going to skate. He waved at them and mouthed a quick thanks before scurrying away from J.J.

The Canadian stammered as he looked at the two members of Yuri's entourage. He waved at them like a drunk princess and plastered on a nervous smile. "Victor! How are you doing? I'm so happy that you're all here. Is Yuri here?"

Victor laughed at the embarrassed J.J. "Of course. Did you think that a setback would keep Yuri from winning gold today?"

J.J. rattled his head sideways like a broken bobblehead. "No, of course not! I was just talking to Otabek about...this new investment opportunity."

Victor raised an eyebrow while letting his arms fall limp by his side. "Investment opportunity?"

J.J. cooked up a small lie in his thick skull. He held up a finger as if he were revealing a major revelation about life. "Exactly! I was telling Otabek about this piece of real estate my parents put money in and that he should totally throw in something so he can make money."

Isabel turned to Victor. "Don't skaters make money of sponsorships?"

J.J. noticed Isabel for the first time. The shorter blonde girl was a perfect distraction for him to get out of the awkward spot. He thrusted his arm out like a dying robot and opened up his palms toward Isabel. "Hello, miss. I don't think we've been introduced," J.J. rushed the words out of his mouth. "I'm Jean-Jacques Leroy. I'm sure Yuri has mentioned me before."

Isabel did not hesitate to reach out and shake the older man's hand. She loved meeting new people, especially the ones in the skating world. The whole affair was such a dazzling, new experience for her, she still had so much to learn about the skaters and their lives. Apparently, the skating community prided itself on how intertwined all of their lives were with each other. Everybody knew everybody, so Isabel made it her mission to meet as many new skaters as she could.

Although, the primary mission was to make sure Yuri remained emotionally intact for his performance. When she and Victor left earlier, he sat on the bench in the dressing room staring at the black duffel bag at his feet. Hopefully, Yuuri had his outfit prepared.

"Hi there," Isabel said in a loud voice. "I'm Isabel Flynn. Yes, Yuri has mentioned you and how great you are."

Victor snapped his head towards Isabel, looking at her like she turned into a giant centipede. Yuri never fathomed such thoughts, let alone said anything. Unless Yuri shared feelings to Isabel that he had not with the rest of the world, Isabel was lying to J.J.

The pompous skater grinned and fell for the trap like a boar plummeting in a hunter's hole. He let go of Isabel's hand. "He has?"

Isabel nodded, her pixie cut bobbing slightly. "Yup. He thinks that you're his biggest competition, and he says that he thinks about you every time he practices because it gives him motivation."

Victor covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Half of that statement was true. Yuri did think about how annoying J.J. was and how he wanted to see the look of sadness on his face when Yuri crushed him. However, Victor imagined J.J. would take that the wrong way.

"That's great," J.J. said. "I always try to make sure my competition is one hundred percent before I can skate."

Isabel returned the laugh. "I'm just happy that somebody here speaks English correctly."

"I know, right?" J.J. said with a wide smile. "I have to go all over the place with interpreters, although my fiancee helps out from time to time. Her name is Isabella."

Isabel gasped as she tugged on her hair. "That's right. What are the odds of us having the same name kinda? I need to meet her sometime."

The skater sighed and tugged at his collar. His face fell slightly. He seemed almost bothered by the sudden memory of her. Victor noticed his reaction of sudden anxiety. He paused for a few seconds, a zamboni cruising past the opening to the rink behind him. A scuffle of media members chattered away like old friends in the wide walkway.

However, J.J. wiped it away and stuck a smile back on his face. He chuckled and winked at Isabel. "I'm glad Yuri made the right choice going out with you. I have to get ready. Tell Yuri-chan that I'll see him on the podium. Underneath me, of course."

He turned around and sauntered away from the pair. Isabel smiled at him as Victor continued to peer down the hallway.

"I like him," Isabel said. "He seems nice."

Victor laughed. He patted Isabel on the shoulder and ushered her towards the kiss-and-cry section of the rink. "I guess he is. Deep down."

* * *

Yuri was first up in the Short Program. The skating gods could not give him a break, he thought to himself as he paced around the side of the rink. The crowd was loud, enthusiastic at the show put on by the skaters. The bitter air clogged up his lungs. With a signal from the judges, he clashed his skates with the ice. Yuri slid forward like a steam train down tracks towards the center ice. His fan club sat next to the judges tables as usual. Otabek, who had yet to skate, sat in the front row directly in front of center ice.

Otabek knew right away that Yuri was not up to this task. The blonde skater's head hung down, fixated on the ice. His shoulders slumped, and his knees were buckled farther than necessary for balance. When he stopped at center ice, Yuri looked up for a brief moment. Looking directly at Yuri, Otabek spotted the red bloodshot veins sprawled in his eyes. They were lidded, heavy from fatigue. His eyes were not that of a soldier or warrior. They appeared to hold the unsettled sadness of an insecure teenager.

The fire was extinguished in his gaze. His whole figure seemed smaller, almost shriveled underneath the cameras and examining eyes. All that remained was the smoldering remains of a teenager with the skating world on his shoulders.

Otabek had half a mind to walk down the alleyway to Yuuri and Victor and tell them to call off the performance. He would rather see Yuri quit this one time than embarrass himself. He dug his short fingernails into the armrests in his plush velvet chair. Yuri had to deal with this himself. All he could do was be a friend and cheer him on. After the show, they could talk.

He gave a thumbs up to Yuri and smiled. "Davai, Yura."

Yuri stared right through Otabek. It was as if he did not even notice. Even when Isabel and Victor shouted the same things, Yuri released no hint of notice towards the crowd. He was in his own world.

"Love is Blue" emanated from the speakers in the arena.

Yuri took a deep breath.

It was the kind of breath taken by a person who would rather be anywhere else in the world.

* * *

It was a disaster.

Yuri knocked over an open bottle of water off the white table in the dark dressing room. He muttered to himself in Russian, but found no resolve to chastise himself further. Instead, he sat on the ground, leaning his back on a black bench next to a tiny brown wardrobe. He tore of his costume and put on his regular street clothes. His hoodie hiding his head from the world, he sat in silence with his arms holding his legs that were bended in front of him like a shield to protect his front.

There were no major falls or broken limbs. However, Yuri cheated half of his jumps. On a challenging triple axel and lutz combination, Yuri completely abandoned the jump and just skated around the path he would have taken. His velocity was to low for any other major jumps. His vertical height reached on dismounts sprung short of any serious attempt at any real rotations. Even the crowd saw just how defeated he seemed. They clapped afterwards, but it was pure pity for Yuri. He slid off the ice and chucked his skates to the side of the kiss-and-cry. He did not care about the scores as he plodded back to the dressing room.

He was a dead man skating on the ice, and he knew it.

The image of his grandfather froze in his head. The heavyset, gruff man with a pepper beard kept smiling at him, memories of a better time. Yuri stared at the wrinkles in his sweatpants, reminiscing of his life with him. The chill of the cold winters in Moscow pricked his skin as he remembered the harsh wind blowing into his face. His grandfather laughed and redid his faded yellow wool scarf. He always wrapped it around his neck tight like a thick necklace.

Of course, the food was what Yuri remembered the most. Coming in from practice to the humble house. A cuckoo clock sat above a ship-in-a-bottle resting over a fireplace. Climbing up to the rickety wooden chair, the mound of pirozhki and porridge placed on the plywood table made his mouth water. Yuri swore he felt the parcels of salt and pork on his lips.

He still had no idea how he was doing in that hospital. Nikolai's status was still unknown, but Yuri felt the world crashing down regardless. His awful showing in the short program was definitive proof.

Yuri was tired. His muscles screamed with soreness. He wanted to go home. Wherever that was.

The door opened.

A ray of light from the hallway obscured the shadow growing larger towards him. The light disappeared with the door closing with a soft thud. A pair of footsteps tapped their way towards Yuri. He kept looking at his legs, dejected and detached from any interaction with anybody.

He saw from the corner of his eye the figure crouch down and sit next to him.

Isabel sat down next to Yuri, her legs splayed out in front of her unlike the cocoon Yuri made for himself. She reached into her pant pockets, fumbling for something. Yuri still did not acknowledge her.

Isabel knew she was in uncharted territory. Even for a novice like her, she knew his skating performance was more than subpar. When he had finished, Victor and Yuuri stood at the edge of the rink, a long stare in their eyes as if they had witnessed a car accident. It was how her dad looked sometimes after noticing another bill in the mail. However, Isabel figured this situation was more serious.

She also knew how temperamental Yuri was on a regular basis, but dealing with adversity such as this put her in a dangerous spot. She worried that Yuri was not going to get any better. It made her feel bad that she had no answers for him; she had no way of making him better. Teasing him or stroking his hair would not work here. All she knew is what she did when she got upset, and she hoped it worked.

Yuri's eyes widened in surprise at her touch. She shoved an earpiece into his left ear. She put one in her right ear, the string earphones stretching across the both of them. Plugging a silver jack into her phone, she pressed play on a song. Yuri looked over at her as delicate guitar strumming tickled his ears. She wore a blank expression as Yuri blinked at an accelerated pace, as if he was removing something from his malachite eyes.

She stared at him, braving the next step of saying something to him. "I listen to this. Whenever I get upset."

Yuri swallowed to eradicate the dryness in his throat before he spoke. "You get upset?"

Isabel flashed a taut smile. "Even when I'm not, 'Wish You Were Here' is a song to listen to all the time."

Yuri listened to the deep guitar strums playing on the song. They were soft, lethargic like leaves pillowing off a dying tree in the autumn. The singing accompanying the guitar was humble while soft horns blared in a soft crescendo before disappearing into the reverie Yuri felt from the song. The drums brushed his brain like a heartbeat calming him to sleep. Yuri heard the words sung through the earphones. They were weird for a song, but there was a truth Yuri had not felt in many other things. They were genuine, and the emotions felt came out and touched him. This is what it felt like to have art relate to a persons' feelings. It must have been how Yuuri felt when he first saw Victor skate.

It was how Yuri felt sitting with Isabel on the floor of the dressing room.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes. Isabel rested her head on Yuri's shoulders. He remained stiff, still uncomfortable with any meaningful contact.

"When I was little, I used to live in a big house," Isabel said.

Yuri shifted his blurring gaze to Isabel's blue eyes. She had pulled away and looked to Yuri at eye-level.

"In Detroit?" Yuri asked.

Isabel nodded.

"When I was little, I didn't," Yuri added.

"My house had three stories," Isabel said. "It had a tv in every room, and there were flat-screen computers. They still used dial-up, but they were faster than the computers in the Wayne County library. We ate steak almost every night, and I remember thinking. It's weird, but even back then, I knew that something was going to end all of that. I wasn't going to be there, and the cable tv and new SUV my mom had just bought would disappear."

"You don't seem like the person to think like that."

Isabel chuckled. "It's not me being negative, Yurio. It's real. People come and go, and life goes through chapters. They're good chapters, and they're going to be bad ones."

"This sure as hell isn't a good chapter," Yuri said.

The song continued as Isabel saddled up next to Yuri. "We're getting through this, Yurio. Whether you want to or not, me and Victor and Mister Katsuki and Otabek are going to make sure of it. I want to go with you to Russia when this is over. I want to see your grandpa and see how happy he is that you skated here and persevered. I want to see how he lights up when we tell him that you came back after this performance to get on the podium. Then, I want to see his reaction when you tell him that I'm your girlfriend."

Yuri stared at Isabel, not a sound between them. Her bright smile made that tight knot in his chest loosen. His muscles felt less sore, and the fatigue that he felt was still there, but there was just a warmth that radiated from Isabel that made him feel...better? As the song changed to something called "The A Team", Yuri sat upright and furrowed his eyebrows in resolve. He was still sad, but she seemed confident, even demanding that he pull through. It was not a selfish demand, though. She did not want him to pull through because she desired fame or fortune, but because she wanted him to be happy. She wanted Yuri to feel like his struggle was worth it.

His grandfather would love Isabel.

"Ya lyublyu tebya."

"What?"

Yuri paused in his train of thought, realizing the words that came out of his mouth. Before he could catch them, they flowed from him like water poured into a tall glass. He gasped with shock at his stupidity and shook his head. Waving his arms, he stammered like a giggling schoolgirl. "Nothing. I-I was just saying that my grandfather would like you."

Isabel went back to their previous position, pretending to wave off the Russian phrase as no big deal. They rested their heads on each others. Yuri surrendered to sleep, beginning to be lost in the quiet music sheltering them from the relentless reporters and sashaying skaters competing on the rink.

Contrary to Yuri, Isabel's eyes were wide open. Thoughts collided in her head at lightning speed. She was not stupid. She knew what Yuri had actually said to her, despite Yuri's assumption of her ignorance to the Russian language.

Those words her boyfriend spoke to her were the same ones Victor said to Yuuri before he left their apartment.

* * *

 **So what did he say to her? A quick trip to Google Translate may tell the answer.**

 **BTW, what do you think of the dialogue? Imagery? Song choices? I know Pink Floyd and Ed Sheeran are a little cliche, but at least I didn't use "Hallelujah"!**

 **Q of the day: If Yuri was put in another anime, which would it be and why? I would put him in Ouran High School Host Club mainly because that would be hilarious. The twins would annoy him to death. Tamaki would annoy him to death. Actually, everyone in that show would. It would be great!**

 **Spread this to everyone if you think its good enough! Favorites, follows, reviews, links, fan-art, you name it. I will appreciate everything as if it was a real life paycheck!**

 **Shout outs!**

rose008: Thank you so much for reviewing. I'm thrilled I'm still attracting new readers, and I hope you will stay along for the ride. I tried very hard to make these characters seem true to the world they are in. I hope you will let me know if I stray on the wrong path!

yurisAngel: Thank you for calling my writing amazing! There are better people out there, but I am glad I have affected you as a reader so much! Keep up the great reviews!

Gabyakiko: I'm glad my story is getting a little international love! Thank you from America! Yes, the focus on emotions was more important to me than the skating scenes. I could write the best skating scenes ever, but if you don't care, it doesn't matter. Keep reviewing please!

Erzatscarlett: I won't pretend that I have even experienced anything close to what you have. Thank you so much for sharing that, and I hope I do a little justice in portraying grief. It's tough to do without going overboard.

bstarqueen: So Yuri ended up bombing. Maybe he will comeback, though! Also, yes, Isabel does have some issues that will be dealt with soon.

BookwormBB17: I think i planned for a striptease scene by Yuri later on. That may interest you and entice you to keep reading. Thanks for reviewing! Keep it up!

 **Thank you so much. I do this because of my fantastic reviewers. Don't forget to review, favorite, and follow!**

 **See you soon!**


	25. Frank Conversations

After Yurio had stormed off to the locker room, Victor turned around and began to run behind him. Yuuri grabbed his shoulder and tugged him back. Victor turned with a shocked expression caked on his face. He tried to shake off Yuuri's hand, but he held firm as Yuuri frowned at him.

"What are you doing?" Victor nearly shouted. "We have to see Yurio."

Yuuri clutched the lapels on his maroon suit as he remembered the anguish burned in his chest. Honestly, he was a little shocked at himself for being that upset over Yurio's performance. However, business was business, and he would rather shoot himself than abandon the ice.

"We have to stay Victor. It'll look like we're panicking if we go after him."

"Well, we kind of are," Victor whispered.

Yuuri pulled Victor closer, their face closed to inches away from each other. His resolve was fading fast looking into Victor's pale blue eyes, but he had to remain firm.

"Victor, we can't run after him. Do you know how unprofessional it will look if we run away from the ice with the others watching?" Yuuri said in a steady tone as if he were ordering a small child to sit still at the dining room table.

Victor raised a finger and pointed to Yuuri. "You don't understand, Yuuri. My son's heart is breaking, and we need to be there fo-."

"What do you mean, 'my son'? You're not related, are you?"

Victor froze and stared at Yuuri. His mouth had moved faster than his brain yet again. His mouth agape, he shook his head with Yuuri still grabbed onto his shoulder. They remained for a few seconds, wallowing in silence as the PA announcer announced Yuri's scores. The kiss-and-cry remained empty.

"I didn't mean that," Victor said in a soft voice. "It just slipped out."

His face was paler than usual as he breathed with the heft of a cannonball. Victor wore his heart on sleeve, and it was easy to see when he was flustered. Yuuri could not help but feel a little proud of himself for holding on to his emotions better than him. At least he waited to go to the bathroom before crying. Victor would just ball his eyes out right in the open. However, his slip up on his words made Yuuri question how he viewed Yurio. Of course he was their skater, so they cared about his well-being.

Yuuri had thought he was just a coaching job for them, though. He did not think Victor held such feelings that he considered Yurio...a son? They had only known each other for a few years. It's not like they had even lived together for that long. Does Victor just get attached to people very quickly? After all, he and Isabel already had a close bond to each other. She was a complete stranger not three months ago.

All those questions were put on hold as Isabel, right on cue, volunteered to see Yurio in the locker room. Yuuri convinces Victor to stay and let Isabel take care of the moody skater.

The rest of the skaters ranged from excellent to mediocre performances. Michele Crispino came out and performed to an Italian folk song. He did well, although a smack to the ice on his last jump caused a deduction in his score. It also left Michele with a tough bruise that was already forming on his left cheek.

Christophe Giacometti skated a masterful short program to some American song. The harsh and deep synths to the sultry song complemented the tall Swiss mans gyrating and twirls on the ice. His final quadruple axel and toe loop combination solidified his spot on the top of the standings. Victor later told him the song was called, ironically enough, "Sex Therapy" by some Canadian singer. Yuuri could sense Yurio's eye roll if he was there to watch.

Seung-gil Lee of South Korea was rolling right through his program, a short rendition of Gangnam Style of all the songs he could have chosen. However, on the third and fifth jumps, the serious, long haired man dug the front of his skate into the ice and catapulted himself to the ground. With the gingerness of a slow ballerina, he soldiered on to finish the routine. However, two major falls and lack of revolutions on his jumps may have caused him to be down and out.

Guang Hong, fresh off of his last competition, fared better than before. Skating his last short program, Yuuri saw the smoother glides around the ice. He appeared more confident, but the program was not difficult enough to warrant a terribly high score.

J.J. appeared to have front-runner status as he came out onto the ice. The speakers above him began to blare out a song called "Strange Animal." It was a weird 80's Canadian pop song, but J.J. appeared to have the crowd entranced as the lyrics matched up perfectly with his masterful quads and loops. The song fit him and his routine perfectly as he winked at his fans while passing them on the ice. With his evened-out jumps, he ended with his trademark hand gestures. He made fast fans of the audience. The largely Japanese crowd roared their approval. The tall Canadian seemed so confident and excited, there was no way he could not be at the Grand Prix Finals in Qatar.

A speaker read out the scores to the crowd. Yuuri felt another big headache coming on as he saw the challenges ahead.

 _Jean-Jaques Leroy (CAN)-98.21_

 _Christophe Giacometti(SWI)-97.94_

 _Michele Crispino(ITA)-93.44_

 _Otabek Altin (KZA)-92.97_

 _Guang Hong(CHN)-87.56_

 _Seung-gil Lee(ROK)-82.35_

 _Yuri Plisetsky(RUS)-81.98_

* * *

The night before the free program was wrought with alcohol and music (as usual). Yuuri never understood why these skaters liked partying so much, especially before a bug competition. He sipped a glass of water while looking around like a lost child. He sat in the corner of the small square room. A rotund, black pianist in a white tuxedo thumbed shiny ivories in the corner of the small jazz club. Couples swayed around on the small dance floor inches from the square black table Yuuri rested. The Japanese man drummed his fingers on the sleek, grease-stained table to the beat of the piano.

Victor twirled over to the table, moving his hips to the rhythm of the song. He smiled at Yuuri and stuck out his hand. "Come on, Yuuri. Let's dance."

Yuuri examined the room. A few of the skaters from the competition danced like there was no tomorrow. Phichit, who was visiting from Thailand, was attempting to breakdance with Christophe. In another corner, Guang Hong and Leo beat the ground with their shoes in some sad tap-dancing routine. Michele Crispino stood in the middle of the floor, yelling at Emil who had attempted to dance with his sister, Sara.

Yuuri shook his head. "Sorry. My head hurts."

"What?" Victor said. He reached over and held the back of his cold palm to Yuuri's forehead. "We can walk outside if you want."

Yuuri nodded his head. They got up and left the jazz club.

* * *

Passing Saint Basil's Cathedral, Yuuri and Victor walked along the wide oceanfront. The cobblestone walls separated them from the frigid waters of the river beneath them. The tungsten streetlights hovered above them, lighting the sidewalk as they continued on foot in the cold Fukuoka night. The sky was clear, but the streetlights shrouded the stars away from any visible sight. Silk gushing of water from the river flowed past them as they past more lampposts. The streetlamps and sidewalk reminded Yuuri of an old movie. Whether he thought of a musical or a slasher film, he was not sure.

Eventually, they stopped and leaned over the cobblestone wall. Yuuri placed his arms on the ledge and leaned on the smooth, wet rock. Victor stood next to him like a bodyguard as they took in the sight of the twinkling lights in the quaint buildings on the shoreline across from them.

Yuuri looked over to Victor after a few moments of silence. "What did you mean about Yurio today?"

Victor frowned for once and tilted his head. "What did I mean about what?"

Yuuri shook his head and sighed. The fog from his breath evaporated past his glasses and disappeared into the Moscow night. "You know what I mean, Victor. You saying he was your son. Do you actually think of him like that?"

Victor cleared his throat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his beige trench coat. "It was a heat of the moment thing."

"Victor, I've been with you for two years," Yuuri said in a rushed voice. He stood upright and jabbed a shaking finger towards Victor. "I know when you're lying by now."

Victor held his hands out in front of him, as if to protect himself. "And so what if I did think of him like that?"

"You're his coach. You can't think about him in that way," Yuuri lectured.

"I was your coach, and now look. We're getting married."

Yuuri groaned. "That's different, Victor. Its...I-It's not the same thing," he said in a soft voice. "We're adults, Victor. Yurio may not act like it, but he's still a kid."

"He acts like a kid all the time," Victor said with a blink. "What are you talking about?"

Yuuri sighed. He was getting nowhere, and the night was not getting any warmer. He needed to get to his point before he shriveled up in the chilled breeze sweeping the riverfront like a broom.

Yuuri licked his chapped lips and continued. "We can seriously mess Yurio up. I don't mean in skating. When he gets to be an adult, he's going to be hung out to dry if you say things like that to him and then abandon him in a few years."

"But I don't want to abandon him," Victor said with redness growing around the whites of his eyes. The growing anxiety was forming in him.

"Well, you sort of did once already."

"That was different. It was for you."

"If you say things like thinking he's a son," Yuuri interrupted. "Don't you think Yuri will feel bad if you decide to stop coaching him in a few years?"

"But I don't want to stop," Victor said, his voice become less controlled with every breath. "I don't want to stop coaching Yurio. He is like a son to me, Yuuri."

Without a hint or warning, Victor reached over and grabbed Yuuri's cold hand. He leaned over and kissed the back of his palm. Yuuri blushed at the random contact. It was such a weird thing to do in the middle of an argument, but Victor was weird. Yuuri hung his mouth open as Victor gazed back up to his eyes. Tears appeared to form, obscuring the color that typically sparkled with every look at Yuuri.

"I don't want to stop coaching Yurio. Not just in skating, but in life. He doesn't have anybody else, Yuuri," He said as he squeezed Yuuri's hand. "His mom is a deadbeat, and he might be a few days away from losing his grandfather. You know he doesn't get along with the other skaters. If we leave, there is nobody left."

"Yakov?"

Victor sniffled and wiped away a tear. "Yakov wants to retire soon. I think Georgi and Mila are going to be his last students."

"His mother."

"I can't do that," Victor said as he gyrated his head. "You know his mother has problems. She could not handle that. I know skating is not permanent, Yuuri. I mean, I'm almost thirty and I'm already retired."

"You even have gray hair," Yuuri said to ease the tension.

Victor let out a sad laugh. "I do."

He took a step closer to Yuuri and wrapped his arms around him. Look at his face, he said a quick prayer. He could not believe how lucky he was to have Yuuri next to him.

"Victor, we need to head back to the hotel," Yuuri said. "I know you're worried about the future, but we can handle it. It's not like the season is over yet. And I know that, deep down. I mean, _way_ deep down, Yurio feels the same way about you. Just don't say anything until we're sure."

Victor reached up and brushed away a stray strand of hair from Yuuri's forehead. "You're one of the most beautiful sights in the world."

Yuuri looked at Victor with a small expression of awe. "Why are you saying that?"

"Because it's true."

"Why are you saying that in these circumstances? Weren't we just arguing a second ago?"

"Because I have to think about how amazing you are that you can handle both me and Yurio in the same household."

"Define handle."

Victor laughed. "You still blush every time I say something nice to you. I hope you always do that."

* * *

In the hotel, Isabel looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. Brushing her teeth, her blonde pixie cut had a small cowlick on the back. The yellow t-shirt with a Ford logo she wore was hanging on her shoulders, slightly draped on one shoulder and showing another. She looked like a train wreck as toothpaste foamed in her mouth.

It had been a long day for her. After her talk with Yuri, they fell asleep on the hard floor of the locker room. Thankfully, Yuri woke her up before anybody saw them dozing the day away. Isabel almost laughed at how Yuri blushed at the unconscious physical contact. If there was one thing he and the other Yuuri had in common, it was that they were easily flustered by almost any form of touch. After they straightened themselves, Isabel went to get Yuuri. They arraigned for him to leave the contest early and call up the hospital to check up on Nikolai.

Yuri was surprisingly calm as the nurse over the phone explained the situation. There was an accident, Isabel gathered. However, neither cared about that so much as his state of being. The nurse tried to sound positive over the phone, but her words pointed in another direction. He was in deep trouble, and a quick trip to Moscow was necessary after tomorrow.

Yuri hung up and announced he was going to his room to sleep. Isabel had not heard from him since.

Finishing in the public bathroom, she walked out into the narrow hotel hallway. The floral printed wallpaper pasted flat on the walls and covered them down the hallway. The smooth ivory ceiling. Going to Japan was a crazy experience for her. Even if sightseeing was out of the question, the whole place was weird. People walked and talked in an odd, almost business-like way to everybody. Efficiency was priority for the Japanese, so vending machines with random objects like pencils and toothpaste lined the hallway as Isabel traversed down it. Even the toilets, with the trademark Japanese bidets, were quick and effective.

Isabel shrugged to herself. As long as it was a roof with running hot water and electricity, she could live with the awkwardness of the average Japanese person.

As she stepped past a door, she heard a sniffle.

Stopping in her tracks, she pivoted herself on the pink carpet and faced the wooden door. Based on the picture of a spray bottle hanging on a nail in the door, it was the entrance to a supply closet.

Being one to snoop around at anything happening around her, she opened the door. The supply closet was small. The smell of bleach swirled around the dark room. A few brooms and cleaning bottled placed on a brown workbench in front of her. On the side of the room, a leaf blower hung on a shelf with a hammer.

Turning to the other side of the room, she gasped.

It was the Canadian skater she had met earlier in the day. He was sat very much like Yuri in the locker room earlier that day. He sniffled, his face swollen slightly from the tears flowing down his face. When they saw each other, he paused his cries and tensed up like a robber caught stealing food from a bakery.

Isabel got over her shock and closed the door. She flicked on a light switch. A warm orange light flickered overhead for a second. Seeing him in a better light, she saw that he had been through a rough night. His gelled obsidian hair was mussed up in the front. He appeared to have a thin crimson gash on his cheek, and a growing red spot Isabel was sure would become a bruise burned bright red on his other cheek. Wearing a yellow t-shirt, the shirt had a brown splotch in the middle from some liquid. A tear on the right leg of his tight black sweatpants was obvious from the flash of skin revealed by the cut.

Isabel hovered over him. "Are you okay?"

Jean-Jacques Leroy gasped for a deep breath. "Oh, hey. No, I'm fine," he said as he rubbed his face to eradicate tears. "I just have allergies."

Isabel did not need to be a detective to know a lie when she heard one. She promptly sat down next to the man. He looked down at his pant leg, sadness emanating from his slouched figure.

"I thought you did great out there today," Isabel said. "I saw you, and everybody loved you."

J.J. peered at Isabel. "Can I tell you something?"

Isabel blinked. They only met earlier that day, and he appeared to want to say something personal to her. "Sure?"

J.J. felt another wave of tears flood his vision. "I don't think my fiancee loves me anymore." He choked out.

Isabel gasped. "Why?"

J.J. sniffed and wiped the bags under his eye with a finger. "I guess I saw you and Yuri and those pictures on Instagram of you two in Hasetsu and I got jealous. The way you two looked at each other and how you went to him after the show, it wa-."

"You know about that?"

"News travels fast," J.J. said in a croaked voice. "We used to look at each other like that."

"Your fiancee? Isabella?"

J.J. nodded. "But for the past year, things have been different. I know I look like I'm very loud and confident up on the ice, but the last year has been hard," he said. "When I go back to Canada, all we do is argue."

"About what?"

"Anything," J.J. said with anguish. "Dishes. Bills. Kids. You name it. In fact, she doesn't even want to come to my skates anymore. I had to practically drag her to Japan just for this. She only came because she has family here, and she complains about me and different languages all the time."

"I know what that's like," Isabel said. "Whenever I do something Yuri doesn't like, he says some Russian slur."

"But that's just teasing," J.J. said to Isabel. "You know that he still wants you there. I think when she says those things about wanting me to go away or how annoying and arrogant I am, she means it. One day, I just woke up and she started to get more upset about things that didn't matter. She got upset about me being immature or how J.J. style is annoying or when I'm going to go back to school to get a job in the future. She mutters to herself about her dad wanting to marry a doctor and it makes me feel so useless. So every time we see each other, she finds something to get mad about and how I'm...I'm just an inconvenience to her. That-that's what she said to me. I'm just..." he trailed off as he cried.

Isabel patted him on the back. She barely knew J.J. and relationship advice was not her forte, but she could at least offer a comforting word. "Look, I know I don't know you from Adam's house cat, but I think your a good person. You haven't robbed anybody, have you?"

J.J. sniffled again and looked deep into Isabel's eyes. "No."

"You haven't killed anyone, right?"

"No."

"In a gang?"

"No."

"Drugs?"

"Just coffee."

"There you go," Isabel said with a wide smile. "You're better than eighty percent of the people that I know in Detroit already."

J.J. wiped away the remnants of tears and shook his head. "Thanks. Can I tell you something?

"Sure."

"I remember when we lived in Windsor for a few years."

"That's by Detroit."

J.J. nodded. "There was a park that she always loved to go to right by the river. Whenever she or I felt bad about something, we took this little pact that the other would always take the person to that park to calm down. The first time...I remember it. She was upset that I kissed a fan on the cheek one time. So I took her there, and it looked like she had gone to another world. She was so carefree and happy. A few minutes later, she forgot and forgave everything."

"Have you tried to take her there?"

"We live in Quebec now."

Isabel''s eyes grew larger as an idea sprung to her head. Her excitement caused J.J. to lean back as she blurted out her revelation like a hyper child. "Yuri said that his friend was going to be skating at a contest in Windsor next week. Are you going to be there?"

The taller skater nodded. "Skate Canada. It's in Windsor this year."

Isabel raised up her palms and giggled. "Then it's meant to be. Take her there and tell her about how you feel. I bet if she saw you like this right now, crying and wondering how you can make her happy, she would want to make up with you on the spot."

"So you want me to break down in public?"

Isabel shrugged. "Speaking from a girl's perspective, that may help. You don't have to, but just tell her what's in your heart. Maybe the problem is that you two have different goals. When she mentioned her dad wanting her to marry a doctor, that probably means she's scared about your future together. Power bills are no joke in Canada, I heard."

J.J. let out a shaky laugh. "No, they aren't." He sat up straight and turned his whole body to face Isabel. A small smile rested on his face. "Okay, then I'm taking her to that park."

"Great!"

"And I'm going to tell her how I feel."

"Perfect!"

"And I'll tell her I love her."

"Davai!"

"And you can come to Windsor and help."

"Huh?"

J.J. grabbed Isabel and squeezed her into a hug. "Thank you, Isabel," he said in her ear. "If you weren't here, I don't think I would have been able to think this through."

He kept her in a warm embrace for a good minute. Isabel was surprised by the turn of events. Getting a long hug from Jean-Jacques Leroy was not on her agenda for the day, but she was happy that she could help in this situation. Although she did not know what J.J. meant by "help," she was sure that it would be worth it. Yuri might even feel a bit better about his situation if they went to that park. They could make a pact like that together.

Then again, Yuri may also vomit if she suggested something so saccharine.

"By the way, I hope Yuri is okay."

J.J. released Isabel and looked at her with a serious expression. "I know I tease him a lot, but I really want Yuri to be at his best."

Isabel sighed. "It's not looking good for his grandfather, but I think he's accepted things a little better now."

The skater rose to his feet and held out his large hand. Isabel grabbed it, and he lifted her to his feet. "I hope so. The Grand Prix final won't be any fun without him. If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"Throw the skate tomorrow and let Yuri win?"

"Nice try," J.J. said. "But seriously, in real life you can talk to me anytime. Okay? You've helped me a lot tonight, and I don't want you to think I'll forget."

He reached into his sweatpant's pocket and pulled out a white business card. It had J.J.'s face winking on it with his trademark finger gesture along with his phone number. Isabel looked down at it and chuckled.

"I do have one question?"

J.J. winked at her. "Only one?"

"Well, one for now."

"Okay, what is it?"

"How serious were you and Isabella when you first met? Did you think you were going to make it this far and get married?"

J.J. laughed. He knew why she was asking the question. Even though he had no idea how far the relationship had gone, he could tell that Yuri and Isabel were developing a special bond that simple high school romances did not merit.

"Nope. We just took things one step at a time. You should do the same with Yuri."

As he turned to leave, a question sprung up in his head. He turned back and pointed at the toothbrush sticking up from her jeans pocket. "Why were you brushing your teeth in the public bathroom?"

Isabel sighed and felt the moist bristled of the brush between her fingers. "The sink was too complicated for me. I don't know how to use Japanese stuff."

"Yuri made the right choice with you."

* * *

 **Make sure you review! It only takes a few seconds, but it means the world to me. It's what gives me the energy to write this deep into the night!**

 **No skating yet! Hope the conversations aren't boring. If so, let me know and I will focus more on the meat. I just want everything well paced and fun for you all!**

 **Some serious stuff is going on! Victor and Yuuri are trying to sort out their feelings. JJ is sorting out his feelings. Yuri is sorting out her feelings. Everybody is confused! Except maybe Isabel. I think her feelings are very clear, even if she does not vocalize them yet.**

 **So what will happen in the free skate? Do you think Isabel is going to take up JJ's offer and ask for a favor about something later on in the story. This could be a big deal, or it could be nothing. We will see. Let me know what you think.**

 **Shout out time!**

bstarqueen: Always one of the best reviewers out there. I look forward to seeing your lengthy, constructive reviews every time. It helps me understand the emotion of the reader more than anything. Yes, I wanted to capture Yurio's grief, and I hope I did well. Isabel has been through quite a bit, and that will be explored soon enough!

Yuri did speak from his heart, and hopefully his head will finally make a decision about letting it out in the open. I as well feel Yuri deserves love, so let's see if he gets it!

Erzatscarlett: Of course I mentioned such a great reviewer as yourself. I have made you very emotional with this fic, and I intend on doing it more.

 **Thank you so much. As always, review and spread the word. If you like this fic, tell people! We are the 18th most reviewed fic for Yuri On Ice! Let's see how popular we can get. Without you, there is no reason to do this other than for my pleasure. I truly aim to please you, the reader, and make something entertaining and fun for everyone to enjoy.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	26. NHK Trophy: Free

Otabek dug his skates deep into the ice, scarring the surface with a tight spiral.

The tall man halted his large frame, breathing like a marathon runner as the crowd cheered. His song, "Night on Bald Mountain, ended with the rise of revelers applauding his free skate program. Clapping melded into a jovial buzz during the standing ovation the audience gave him. White polyester stretched on Otabek's costume while he reared his head up, scanning the arena around him.

His program went without a hitch. As he got older, Otabek knew the limits of his skating. His elasticity was lower than even two years ago, and he found even middle difficulty flips to be taxing on his legs. He had to change his programs to focus more on speed and height and less on agility.

Fortunately, the judges had been kind to him so far.

Despite the relative ease of his performance, the only way he could get a high score was to perfect the program. Otabek spent at least eight hours a day for six days a week to make his routine as flawless as humanely possible. His lungs starving for air, he lassoes oxygen back into his chest.

Seated on the white sofa at the kiss-and-cry, he nodded as the yellow lights lit up his score on the jumbotron above the ice.

190.42

Good enough for second place so far, Otabek thought.

Currently, J.J. stood in first place, skating a breathtaking rendition of Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" in the background. Otabek saw the serious expression on his face as he did his final quads. He was a technical marvel, but there was something about his skating and the way that it matched the song that made Otabek feel sad for him. When he looked up at the stands after the performance and flashed his hand insignia, his face collapsed from his fake smile to a small frown. Otabek followed his eye line and saw an empty chair in front of center ice. Disappointed, the Canadian skater sulked towards the kiss-and-cry and barely celebrated his new personal best score. Otabek made a note in his mind to not be so standoffish with him in the future. He did not want to hurt his feelings anymore than they appeared.

An aging Christophe swayed his way to third. The tall Swiss man was in good spirits, but he shook his head leaving the ice. His time on the ice was nearing its end, and Otabek knew he wanted to finish his career at the Grand Prix Finals. With the Cup Of China left on his roster, he would need at least a medal performance to make it in.

Michele Crispino took a nasty plunge onto the ice in the middle of his program, a fast-paced samba to some Brazilian song. With a surprising gold at Trophee de France, however, Michele could afford a fourth place if the rest of the pack faltered in Skate Canada.

With a good showing at Skate Canada, Otabek felt confident that he should qualify for the Grand Prix Finals. Zipping up his olive jacket, he rose to his feet and traversed the walkway towards the stands. He waved in a curt motion at the crowd, who roared in appreciation at the curtain call.

Yuri was the last person in the men's free program, and nerves twinged inside Otabek like branches swaying in the wind during a rainstorm. He massaged his chest in a rare display of outward anxiety as the announcer began to announce the standings and the next skater up. Nearing his chair, Otabek turned his head and spied Yuri at the edge of the ice.

Yuri had remained quiet and to himself the entire day leading up to his final skate. When he first walked into the stadium in Fukuoka, he shrugged off the reporters and ignored his fans as if they were ghosts floating out of site in the walkway. He flung his hoodie onto his head, bounding past the crowds until he reached his locker room. Otabek saw him and tried to get to him, but Yuri slammed the door and locked it. The Khazaki man thought of knocking on the door, but the image of him trying to get to Yuri from a locked door would look very bad in front of the cameras.

Yuri's eyes were slanted, peering at the ice like a surgeon examining a patient. Leaning on the ice-rink his diamond-encrusted silk ebony suit, the smaller Russian skater stood in his skates as the ice was cleared quickly for him. A few members of the audience rushed to there seats. From the corner of his eye, he saw Victor grow in size before standing next to him on the edge of the ice.

The glow of the ice reflected off his steel eyes, cold and calculating as he glared at the ice like it was his worst enemy. The ice that he was so accustomed to controlling, ordering around like a lion tamer had come back to punch him in the gut. The frigid surface showed back his tired, empty face and mocked his misery. His face was paler than usual, and the layer of concealer he layered on his face flittered away every time he rubbed his eyes with the pearly gloves covering his delicate hands. Even his hair, neatly swaddled in a small bun and angel braid, refused to remain straight with tiny tufts sticking out from the crown of his head.

Hot blood coursed through Yuri's veins. He could spit at the ice with disgust.

Victor slapped Yuri on his shoulder, awaking him from his daze. Yuri whipped around and brushed away Victor's hand like a martial artist blocking an attack. Victor took a step back, his face twitching from the curt response.

"Didn't mean to scare you," Victor said.

Yuri rolled his eyes and growled back. "I wasn't scared. I was concentrating."

Victor sighed and yanked up the oregano tie swirled around his neck. He forced a smile before resting a limp hand back onto his shoulders.

The buzz of the people in the audience evaporated into the cold air as they stood alone next to the ice.

Yuri flinched again. Victor's touch seemed to gentle, almost loving as he squeezed his shoulder. Yuri only mustered the strength to keep his gaze at his level, gazing past Victor's eyeline, uncomfortable with looking him in the eye. The last thing he wanted to hear was criticism about his performance or tips about getting a higher score. In essence, Yuri's brain circuited over the past few days. At this point, he was far past grief or anger.

With the skating world holding its collective breath for Yuri's free program, Victor ransacked his mind for any comforting words to say to his skater. His vocal chords remained dormant, his touch being the only message given to Yuri as he avoided Victor's eyes. Words were useless to both of them at the moment.

Victor squeezed Yuri's slim shoulder again and nodded his head. "Postaraysya"

Yuri shifted his gaze to Victor's ice blue eyes. The Russian phrase brought a small wave of comfort to Yuri. With all of the people he dealt with during the day, the language jolted his mind and stopped his train of thought. He forgot just how out of place he and Victor were sometimes.

Without another thought, Yuri nodded and shoved himself onto the ice. He circled around the center logo on the rink, twisting his ankles and snaking around in place like a dreidel. Yuri didn't care about skating for gold or even placing. Those hopes appeared to be dashed barring a new world record performance. He craned his head up and examined the crowd in front of him.

There was Otabek, giving Yuri a quick thumbs-up. He wanted to skate against him at the Grand Prix Final.

A few rows up, Yuuri had his arms crossed, his anxiety at seeing Yuri obvious with his upright seated position. Isabel was more relaxed in the chair next to him. Her olive wool sweatshirt stood out in the crowd of conservatively-dressed Japanese fans. She looked at Yuri down on the ice, examining him like an ant crawling on the ground. A placid expression rested on her face as neither her nor Yuuri shared any words.

Yuri could not help but feel a bubble of a laugh escape his mouth. Both Victor and Isabel shut up for once would normally be a dream come true.

* * *

Saxophone seethed out of the speakers. Yuri pushed himself forward to begin the performance.

"An Englishman In New York" began to play in the arena, putting Yuri in a trance. The song remained fitting to him. The loss that he felt was different this time. When he first skated this program, he felt lost about his place in Detroit. He still felt that way, but the loss thumping his head with the guitar strum of the song was one he had not felt in a while. The program was supposed to be easy for Yuri, almost comical in it's simple-mindedness.

Snaking around the ice, he elevated himself. His first jump.

The ice crunched underneath him as he slid forward past the jump.

Double Salchow.

Victor shook his head to himself. It was supposed to be a triple.

"You can hear it in my accent when it talk. I'm an Englishman In New York."

Yuri felt the breeze float past him as he went for a double axel. He gasped as he felt his muscles tense in midair.

A single.

The crowd murmured around Yuuri and Isabel. Yuuri felt his fingernails dig into his pillowed armrest. That jump was supposed to be a double.

Otabek narrowed his eyes. Crossing his large arms, he bit his lip while Yuri thrusted himself into a midline step sequence.

"He's cheating everything," Otabek said to himself.

Yuri traversed the long tundra with his arms flickering in air. Yuri had less and less energy with every stroke of his white skates. His grandfather was in the hospital, and he had no idea what to do about it. Yuri felt more lost than before in front of the massive audience. Why were his legs not working properly?

Breaking out of a quick crossfoot spin, Yuri pushed himself along the sidelines.

It was then that he saw it.

Yuri saw the red door to the ice, slightly open from Otabek leaving earlier. The narrow opening invited him like a lighthouse bringing a ship to harbor.

A small inkling grew in Yuri to simply skate into the space of the door and exit the ice.

 _This program is useless_ , Yuri thought. _It won't be enough for the podium. There's no point in embarrassing myself anymore. There's nobody behind me. Nobody to fight for._

Spying Victor from the corner of his eye, he looked back down, his face forming a red blush in shame. _Victor doesn't care. He just wants to win with me. All of that talk about Agape and unconditional love was just him wanting more medals._

Victor sprinted from his spot and bolted around the edges of the ice. He ran as fast as he could to where Yuri was escaping. Victor knew what that look meant. It was a look that he saw many disgruntled beginners on the ice wear when they decided to give up. His coach credential pass swayed in front of him with every large step he took.

 _He can't give up_ , Victor thought to himself. _Even if I have to lock the door before he gets to it, he can't just leave us._

Passing Yuuri on the ice, he swallowed as the door drew nearer. _Yuuri hates me. He's only in this for Victor. The moment this ends, he's kicking me out and I'm back to Russia._

At this point, his lithe body began to slow from his stride. The ice crunched underneath him as he began to recede in velocity.

The door was only a few feet away.

The surprised yelps from the crowd stabbed Yuuri in the spine as he realized the problem at hand.

Yuuri began to panic. He gasped and leaned ahead of him, almost falling into the row underneath him.

No way, he thought. _Is he giving up? We put in all of these hours, and he is going to give up? His career is over if he leaves the ice in the middle of a performance._

Yuri skated past Otabek, whose mouth hung agape as he understood what Yuri was conjuring in his mind.

Beka doesn't deserve a friend like me, Yuri heard himself say in his head. I've never done anything for him. Isn't that what friends are for? Just people you can ask favors from? That's what Grandpa said to me once.

Finally, he spotted the bright sweatshirt and the girl that was inside it. She leaned forward with Yuuri, struggling to understand the severity of the situation.

Isabel. That girl he met in Detroit.

That girl with a smile that never disappeared except for now.

That dumb blonde girl that annoyed him to no end with her stupid jokes or her stupid blind optimism or her love for such a shitty place like Detroit.

That beautiful girl that was with him not for fame or money, but because she actually found something valuable in him outside of skating.

We can't be together, Yuri thought. _I made a mistake. We aren't meant to be. She's real and pure. I'm just an angry skater who can barely speak English. She cares about other people. I hate other people. I'm going to mess this up between us. I'm going to find a way to break her heart. The moment this is all over, she's going to go off and become an amazing chef. I'm going to be a nobody._

 _I can't do this anymore._

Yuri flashed his skate on the ice one more time as his arm reached out by itself to the door. Once he grabbed the top of the wall, he could just pull himself over and end his time on the ice.

He slowed to the speed of a new skater thrashing around the ice for the first time. It was almost over.

 _I don't have any agape left, Victor,_ Yuri thought.

"Proschay," he muttered to himself in an unconscious fashion.

He reached for the door.

Like a lightening bolt, Victor appeared right next to Otabek. He was too far from the door to slam it on Yuri's desire to quit.

Otabek stood up next to him, his eyes wide with shock.

Yuuri and Isabel shot to their feet, standing tall in the crowd of seated patrons.

Like a telepathic connection, the standing group felt a surge of energy shoot through them like a zap of electricity. None of them could physically stop Yuri from leaving, but they knew what they had to do.

In a simultaneous shout, they cupped their hands and directed their shouts towards the door.

"Davai, Yuri!"

Yuri perked up, a quick gasp filling up his lungs.

 _They're still here,_ he thought. _They haven't abandoned me yet._

He jerked back his arms and clenched his fists.

Digging his skate into the ice, he propelled himself like an energized runner past the exit. In fact, Yuri took his fist and punched the door shut.

He raced past Victor and Otabek. A match was lit in his chest, and it fell into a vat of gasoline, transforming a small flare into a massive wildfire inside him. Yuri knew that Victor and Yuuri had all the time in the world to gather Isabel and leave the ice, afraid of seeing the disaster that he was from embarrassing himself further. Otabek could have simply stayed in place, never saying a word as he saw his competition leave the ice.

He had an opportunity to fail, and they refused to see it happen without a fight.

 _They wouldn't have done that if they wanted me to fail._

Everything Yuri thought about the others disappeared and resolve replaced it. Yuri bended his knees and launched himself forward to greater speed.

If Victor only cared about the money, he would never have comforted Yuri in any way. He would not joke with him or drive him places or ask him about his day in school.

If Yuuri only cared about keeping Victor happy, he would never have cooked Yuri all of that food and ask him about his day at school. He would never have helped him study for things like math. He would never let him live with him rent-free.

If Otabek only cared about competition, he would never have called him on his birthday and try to get him with Isabel.

Isabel. She would never have spent hours on end studying with him or talking about her life with him. She would never laugh at his lame excuses for jokes or blush every time they made any physical contact. She would never have the patience to hold him when he heard about his grandfather.

Yuri may be losing his grandfather, but there are still people worth skating for.

Yuri grew warmer, more light as he relaxed his muscles. His agape, his grandfather, vanished from the back of his mind. As he skated his emotions, new faces popped into his head. New people to skate for.

Victor. Yuuri. Otabek. Isabel.

Yuri slammed himself into a Bielmann Spin and leaped out of it a supersonic two-foot spin. The world rushed by like a hurricane as he etched tight circles on the ice. Faster. The banners with his name on it in Cyrillic and English blended with his fan clubs blonde wigs. The faceless crowd remained mute to him as the world disappeared in a mush of vibrant violets and pinks.

 _This is my Agape,_ Yuri thought to himself. _I don't need to find another source of inspiration. Another source of passion. They are right here._

Releasing from the spin, he regained his footing and zoomed across the ice. Suddenly, his brain switched back on the noise. He noticed the hyper crowd mixing with the depressing song. The music melted back into his brain, making him feel as light as the low fog that sneaked through Downtown Detroit every day from the lake.

The saxophone solo began.

Yuri pushed himself around like a snow flurry and whipped into a triple toe flip.

A combination with a triple lutz. He nailed it.

The crowd cheered again as he skated past Victor.

Victor blinked a few times, the tears barely staying in his eyes. The lightbulb finally exploded in Yuri's head, and he was skating with more emotion and energy than ever. There was a flame that burned in Yuri's eyes, and the resolve in his expression made Victor want to cry with joy. Yuri found another reason for skating, and the fact that he was at least a small part of it made him shake with happiness.

Another jump completed. There was no screw ups this time.

His lithe body flung itself into the air, the desolate sound of the saxophone covering for the lost scratches on the ice. Weightless. Yuri felt like the world was beneath him with every jump.

The crowd exploded in applause when Yuri landed the quadruple loop. He wasn't cheating anything else. The entire second half of the program was the pure Yuri Plisetsky, It was as if he was a new skater, reborn and ready to slay the rest of his competition.

The last segment of his program confronted him like a dragon waiting to be killed by a handsome night. He felt like he had to do something big. He had to show off and prove how good he was. Simply following the blueprint by Victor would not do anymore for him. He wanted this performance to be special. Not for Victor or Yuuri or himself.

As he skated around the ice for his final segment, he glanced up. There she was, smiling from ear-to-ear. She held up a thumb, mirroring Otabek and Yuuri.

Even his fans began to do the same thing, chanting "Davai" while holding their thumbs up.

Yuri could not help the small smile that grew on his face.

In the heat of the moment, Yuri bolted down to center ice. He wanted everyone to pay special attention to what he wanted to do next. The song entered its final segment, he remembered the panhandling drummer on the street on his way to school. The rhythm the beatings made on the narrow, cracked sidewalk electrified his heart like a defibrillator.

All of the anger, frustration, and isolation at losing his grandfather gave way to the fire in his chest. The joy of finding people to unconditionally love radiated off of him as he buckled his knees, ready for the final assault.

Yuri pursed his thin lips together, blinking away a bead of sweat from his eye. He leaned his body down slightly and sprang up from the outside skate edge behind him. Spinning in the air, his arms closed deep into his chest while he held his breath. His form had more confidence than ever, even more than at Skate America.

Yuri nailed the ice with the outside edge of his skate.

A quadruple toe flip.

Yuri charged forward. He went up again and twirled for a triple axel spin.

Victor laughed to himself. He turned towards Yuuri in the stands.

Yuuri held Isabel close to him, as if he was sheltering her from the inevitable fall. However, they were both hopping up and down with support for Yuri.

Yuri landed it, but his foot slipped and he stumbled for a second. His knee just scraping the ice, he got back up and charged onward. \His fans waved Russian flags while hugging each other, celebrating the sudden turnaround.

Yuri, still oblivious, clenched his teeth and took another deep breath. He had never done it before, but he would nail it this time. He wanted to wipe the stupid smirk off his face. Both of their faces. He would smack Victor right in his teeth for all of this pain he went through. He deserved it for dragging him to that awful city and being the awful coach that would let him stay in his apartment for free and ask about his day.

"Be yourself, no matter what they say," the lyric whispered in the air.

The skates scarred the ice one more time as Yuri flung himself into the air. He cut through the sky like a twister, the aching in his legs giving way to the bliss of zero gravity.

Pulled down to earth, Yuri braced himself for whatever came next.

The skate slammed onto the ice like two attracted magnets. Yuri's arms stayed firm as his balance remained intact.

A quadruple lutz. Perfect.

"I'm an Englishman in New York."

Yuri finished the program with the scheduled triple flip and loop combination he was supposed to do earlier. Nailing the jumps, he circled around the rink for a few seconds. As the music ended, he mentally told his ears to prepare themselves.

His final pose was his arms crossed defiantly underneath the giant scoreboard. He tried his best to not gasp for air, taking in short, measured breaths through his slightly parted lips.

The audience went insane. His fans were in the midst of a section-wide heart attack, jumping up and down hard enough to shake the rafters above. The rest of the crowd waved banners and posters of him around like a matador egging on a bull.

Victor was hugging Otabek, who allowed the strange man to grope him. Both of them were smiling as if they had won gold.

 _He accepts us, he thought. He accepts us as family._

Yuri looked over at Yuuri and Isabel, his gasps still loud enough to be heard at the kiss-and-cry.

Yuuri held Isabel even harder. He was driven to the point of tears as he understood the message Yuri delivered with his skating. Their shouts of encouragement to Yuri was the boost he needed.

 _Things are going to feel weird when we get back to Detroit,_ Yuuri thought to himself. He laughed off his nerves and looked down at Isabel. _We'll get through it._

The power of Yuri's comeback was not lost on her. She had both hands on her chest with a small, innocent smile resting on her face. It was the kind of expression someone had when a gift was given or good news was received. She was awed to no end, and Yuri was the object that she could not tear her royal blue eyes from.

When their eyes met, they knew what the skate meant. As Yuri drew nearer, both Yuuri and Isabel shook off the loud crowd and barreled down the stairs. Yuri saw them, and a new wave of excitement flowed through him. It gave him the energy to race to the edge of the ice and meet them.

Victor and Otabek saw where they were converging and decided to join in. They ran over to the spot.

Yuri smacked himself into the wall and reached out his arms.

Isabel flung herself into his arms, and she grabbed him around his waist.

"Davai," she whispered in his ear.

Yuuri wrapped his arms around the pair and hugged them as well. As he made contact, Victor and Otabek joined in. Victor slammed himself into the group so hard, they shifted a few feet back towards the kiss-and-cry. Otabek, not one to get emotional, made it over and slowly put his arms around the bundle of bodies, completing the huddle.

The group hugged right on the ice, the crowd going wild as they supported each other. The noise was deafening as people stood up and applauded. A few fans threw stuffed plushies of cats towards the tight group hug. They bounced off their backs, pelting them like a light sprinkle of rain.

Yuri felt the warmth spread through him. The exhaustion of his muscles caused him to buckled his knees, but the group kept him up.

"Sorry," Yuri choked out. "I'm sorry. I'm s-so sorry for everything! I won't ever give up again!"

The despair grew in his voice as his shoulders rocked with the intensity of his cries. Yuri began to collapse from his emotional and physical exhaustion. The group hugged him even tighter as his cried started to drown out the noise of the audience.

Victor, already a slobbering mess, nestled his face into Yuri's hair and chuckled. "You have nothing to apologize for, Yurio. W-we're here... We're here for you."

"I want to face you at the Grand Prix Final, Yura," Otabek said, his breath tickling Yuri's ears. "I want you to be there to skate with me."

Yuuri nuzzled his head into Victor's shoulder, trying to comfort the emotional man. "Me and Victor are here for you, Yuri. We're not just your coaches anymore, Yurio."

Yuri cried even harder at that statement. The feelings that he displayed on the ice were returned.

By all of them.

Finally, Isabel reached one hand up and stroked Yuri's cheek. Yuri looked up. She smiled at him, leaving him in awe at how she could always brighten up his day. They were inches apart from each other in the tight group hug, cocooning them from cameras and social media posts. There was a look of happiness and optimism, but what silenced Yuri's sniffles was the peace on her face. There was an expression, almost a trance that her eyes put him in. A calm comfort swirled in him like he was gazing out at waves crashing into the shores of the Detroit waterfront.

No kiss. No confessions of love. Just a girl giving a soothing touch to her boyfriend.

"Thank you," Yuri whispered to her.

"For letting you be yourself?" she joked in return.

Yuri laughed. This laugh was different than his others, Isabel noticed. It was not a mirthful laugh, or a sadistic scoff. It was a light laugh. A real, honest-to-god laugh. A laugh of joy. He replaced his remaining sobs with the laugh. It was a clear, melodic laugh that sounded like sweet music to Isabel's ears.

The weight on Yuri's shoulders evaporated into thin air. He laughed even louder as he thrusted himself closer to Isabel. He rested his head next to hers, their cheeks rubbing. He silenced his laugh, but the smile remained on his face. Isabel could hear it as he breathed.

"Just...thank you," Yuri whispered. "Thank you, Isabel Flynn."

"And thank you, Yuri Plisetsky," Isabel replied. "Thank you for moving to Detroit."

Nobody in the group knew how long the group hug session lasted, but all members decided it was time to adjourn when the zamboni, used to resurface the ice, chugged closer and closer to them.

* * *

 **Whew! So that's basically the 2/3rd mark of this story. Yes, it is coming to an end soon (of course, the GPF will be the climax), but I'm happy with how it is progressing.**

 **As always, make sure to review and tell me how you feel. It only takes a second, but it gives me the energy to finish this story up. I already have my idea for my next story, and I would like to start it soon.**

 **Basically, my idea is an AU where Yuri, a world-famous ice skater, attempts suicide. He fails and is kept at a hospital where (surprise!) our favorite ice skaters are doctors and nurses. There, Yuri learns about the meaning of life and his purpose in the world and yada yada yada. It sounds really dramatic and depressing, but it's going to be a dark comedy of sorts. Dr. Nikiforov and Nurse Katsuki flirting with each other left and right? Yes, please! I imagine Isabel would make an appearance as well, but I'm not writing it yet. Think that idea is worth anything? That is a motivating factor to finishing, but you are the top priority as the reader!**

 **So what did you think?! You think Yuri did well enough? Did you think he would really quit? How do you think his actions around people will change now that he has accepted new unconditional love into his life?** **What will happen next?**

 **I'm almost thinking of doing a little "omake" type thing between this chapter and the beginning of the next arc. y'know, just a silly fun one shot, but I'm not sure what it will be about. We will see.**

 **Shout out time:**

bstarqueen: Another amazing review. I am so happy I have such a great reviewer that reliably reads my stuff. Thank you from the bottom of my heart!

Despite them appearing to be more accepting, there will still be questions about familial loves role in these character's lives. We would all like to think a big moment like this would lead to happily ever after, but it almost never does. There are still complications, and heads will still be butted into, but that's family for ya!

As far as JJ goes, he will have a kind of big role in this next third of the story. Mainly, i just wanted to see how funny it would be if Isabel became good friends with the one guy Yuri cannot stand to save his life. Don't worry, plenty of hijinks will ensue.

applejack465: It's so weird, because if you just saw the ends of episodes 8 and 11, you would think Yuri On Ice! was the story about a Canadian skater rising from his insecurites. It's so weird the amount of focus put on him, but I actually love JJ for how annoying he is. After all, he never hurt anybody!

SkyeShah: Thank you so much for saying that to me! Please tell me what I can do to continue this being your favorite fic. I try my best for my readers!

 **Thank you so much! Please review and don't be afraid to recommend this to anybody you know. We are already one of the most reviewed fics in this newly-emerging fandom on this site. I hope we can rocket to the top.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	27. Out With The Old, In With The New?

The picture sat on the ivory coffee table beneath the plasma television.

In the golden frame, an old man stood in an enveloping grey coat in front of a fishing boat. His pepper beard overgrown and covering his toothy smile, he had a large hand on the shoulder of the tiny boy next to him. His shoulder-length blonde hair waved in the wind battering the harbor of Saint Petersburg. He was pale and fresh faced with a plaid scarf nestled around his neck, while the older man's fuzzy face stared ahead at the camera. The younger boy did not seem happy to be in the cold harbor that day; he frowned while looking away from the camera at his grandfather.

Later on, Yuri wished he had not been so hasty in wanting to go home that day. It was the day Nikolai taught him to fish.

A low laugh emanated throughout the apartment.

Across the room from the coffee table with the new picture, Jean Jaques Leroy held his stomach as he shook from the joke. Seated at the square glass table overlooking the downtown Detroit skyline, he wiped a small tear from his eyes. His midnight hair that fell like a feather over his forehead shined from the dull sun peeking through the iron clouds drifting over the city. He adjusted the collar on his crimson Team Canada jacket that draped his broad shoulders. With his other hand, he clutched the handle of a mocha brown mug holding steaming hot chocolate.

He grinned at Isabel who sat in the chair across the table. A pot of water boiled in the kitchen area, rice simmering in the liquid. A pink suitcase was planted in the corner of the large living room area. Victor had still not unpacked from the trip to Japan. He probably forgot the suitcase was even there.

"So he hid his hentai collection in his mom's bedroom?" J.J. asked as he sipped his cocoa.

Isabel twirled a strand of her hair. Her bright blue eyes lit up as she chuckled. "I couldn't believe it, either. Mister Katsuki doesn't seem like a guy with kinks like that."

J.J. laughed again and put down his mug, the container making a clink with the glass. "I've heard stories through the grapevine."

"Like what?"

"Like Victor and Yuuri keeping Yurio up all night?"

Isabel nodded. "He told me that they've been quiet while he's sleeping. Sex is something those two like to do."

"I didn't think Yuuri had it in him," J.J. said with another snicker.

Isabel flicked her eyes towards the cuckoo clock perched on the wall by the front door. Yuri was going to be back from practice any second. Isabel imagined he would be incensed if he saw J.J. sitting in his apartment, but outside of killing him, she thought that the taller Canadian could handle him. As she turned to glance back at J.J., she noticed the bright gleam of the newly placed photograph frame on the coffee table.

Sighing, she thought back to the whirlwind that was the past few weeks.

Right after the group hug by the rink in Fukuoka, Yuuri stayed back to answer questions from the media as Victor and Yuri snagged Isabel and flew to Moscow. Once they landed, Yuri forgot his luggage and dashed for the nearest taxi cab. Victor tried to slow down the anxious teenager, but Yuri responded by smacking him on the face and shouting that he needed to see his grandfather.

On the ride to the hospital, the car remained dead silent. Yuri gripped the armrest in the old Volkswagen like he was holding a life preserver in deep ocean. Based off of his conversations with the hospital, he knew there was little time left. Victor and Isabel did not dare to say any words to him as they traversed through the heavy traffic of downtown Moscow.

They arrived at the hospital. Yuri was just in time to say goodbye and give Nikolai Plisetsky one last hug.

No time for sightseeing, Isabel and Victor decided it was best to get Yuri out of Russia as soon as possible. Yuri put up no fight, only a stoic expression plastered on his face. His eyes remained glassy, almost empty as his bright green hues appeared dimmed from seeing his grandfather. He didn't utter one word on the trip back to Detroit. In fact, when the got back to the apartment, Yuuri was already settled back in. Seeing the hurt Russian, he took Yuri into a large hug. Victor had told him the news a few hours earlier. Despite having no connection to the old man, Yuuri knew how important he was to Yuri. As they hugged, Yuri remained limp and put up zero resistance.

Yuri was still not quite his old self, being more obedient and even helping Yuuri around the condominium once in a while. After realizing how horrible Yuri was at cooking pancakes and folding laundry, Yuuri asked him politely to stop helping and watch television. It was on the news that Yuri learned he ended up a surprising fourth in the NHK Trophy. However, his spot in the Grand Prix Finals was determined by the occurrences at Skate Canada later in the month.

Victor had stopped practices for the time being. Yuri objected, shouting that the middle of the season was no time to slow down. However, Victor knew that Yuri was distracted, and skating was an activity that Yuri had to be fully dedicated to both body and mind.

His skating privileges on ice, Yuri went to school and buried his head in his studies. It was the last week of finals, and chemistry was still immensely boring for him.

Isabel had taken up the task to try and cheer up the Russian. She had tried everything she could from lame jokes to giving him coney dogs down to getting him to conversate some of his classmates. However, the old Yuri that was annoyed and shared snark-infused observations about his life seemed to disappear. In fact, that was one of the reasons that J.J. was sipping away hot chocolate in front of her. Despite his teasing and antagonizing of Yuri, it seemed that J.J. had compassion for his fellow skaters that had been untapped, especially since he had his own troubles with his fiancee.

"So is your lady friend doing any better?"

Isabel looked over at J.J. who wore a serious expression on his chiseled face. "You know he'll kill you if he hears you say that."

J.J. cleared his throat. "I thought it would be a good idea to do that."

"Not following."

"Well," J.J. said as he leaned forward. His shadow draped over the table. "I was thinking that it would help him out. I've been reading some books about this sort of thing."

"Really?"

"Yeah," J.J. said with a wink. "I'm good at reading."

Isabel spat out a laugh. "Great, J.J."

"Anyway," J.J. continued. "I read a book about helping people out in these sorts of things, and I know the way to get over things like what Yuri-chan is going through is to make things normal as if it never happened."

"So you want to bully him to bring normalcy?" Isabel asked while raising a thin eyebrow.

J.J. scoffed. "It's not bullying, Isabel. It's teasing. Like a love tap."

"A love tap."

"You know," J.J. said. "When a guy smacks a girl on the arm or the leg. It's a love tap."

"I have to say," Isabel said with a small blush forming on her pale cheeks. "Yuri has not done that to me."

J.J. smiled and tilted his head with a mischievous smile. "Maybe you can do that to spice up your love li-."

"J.J., I don't think we should be talking about this right now," Isabel said in a rushed tone.

J.J. stiffened up in his chair. For as pompous and confident as he could be, he admitted to himself that making friends was a difficult proposition for him. J.J. tried to get along with many of the people on the skating circuit. However, like Yuri and now his fiancee, the other skaters found him quite abrasive and annoying. There were few people that J.J. could bring into his life that could stand his large ego and entitled sense of self. He would rather drown in the Detroit River than lose another person.

Isabel had taken up J.J. on his offer and texted him often since the events of the NHK Trophy. J.J. had ended up wining the event by a sizable margin over silver-medalist Otabek Altin. J.J. tried to be more humble on the stands by only flashing his signature hand signal once during the ceremony. He even tried to shake hands with all the skaters, but most of them disappeared before he could reach them. Isabella had refused to return his calls. All he received from her was a curt text that she was returning to Quebec City.

So J.J. turned to Isabel for help in the female category. After all, there was only a four year difference between the two. Isabel thought J.J's grand image of himself was funny, and she had to admire his lofty goals of being the king of ice skating. J.J. was also very honest to Isabel, pouring out his feelings on the other skaters and his loneliness. Eventually, J.J. decided to come down to Detroit and meet up with her on a weekend. She showed him around Detroit, and he felt a calm ease around her, as if he had known her for years. It was a strange pairing, but J.J. began to think that he could view this young blonde as a friend.

Friend. That was a musical word to him.

J.J. thrusted out an open hand to stop Isabel from getting up. "Wait! I didn't mean to make it weird." He said, trying to not cause conflict.

Isabel snorted. "Calm down, J.J. I wasn't leaving. It's just...we don't really have any contact at all."

J.J. calmed down and shook his head. "Sorry, but I don't know sometimes why it's hard for me to get along with people."

Isabel chuckled. "You think you can't get along? Yuri doesn't like anybody. We've been going out for about a month, and I'm still not sure he likes me."

J.J. roiled his head, stretching his neck. "Do you hold hands?" He asked after a pause.

"Nope. He said he thought it was gross."

"Hugs?"

"When he found out about his grandfather, but that's really it."

"Kisses?"

"J.J!" Isabel exclaimed, a fully formed flushed reddening her cheeks.

Just as the memory of her secret kiss on the rooftop invaded her mind, the door flew open.

A second later, the loud thud of the slamming door shook the pictures hanging on the walls.

Yuri Plisetsky flung his black hoodie onto the leather sofa and charged forward, revealing a bedazzled tiger shirt. Before the hoodie hit fabric, Yuri bolted through the living room and stopped a few feet away from the table. His face was red with exertion as sweat caked his forehead. His long hair was messy, swiped back from the wind like a used mop. He breathed with the heft of an anvil. His shoulders rocked up and down as he tried to lasso air into his lungs. The sneer on his face pointed directly at the larger Canadian skater in the chair across from his girlfriend. A throbbing in his temples pounded his head while boiling blood coursed through his veins in anger.

This had to be a nightmare come true, Yuri thought. There was no way this loser could be sitting by Isabel.

Alone.

Without him.

J.J.

"What. The. Fuck." Yuri growled out.

J.J. wore that annoying, smart-aleck smile he was known for. He held up a hand to welcome him. "Hey, Yuri. How's it going?"

Yuri shifted his glare towards Isabel. She shivered as his eyes brightened with intense anger. "Isabel, you know inviting this...thing into my apartment is a break-up offense."

"You said that about waking you up on weekends, but we're still together." Isabel said.

Yuri could not fathom the words that described his level of pissed off. To cap off the worst weeks of his life, J.J. was comfortably sitting in his chair in his apartment with his girlfriend. The one person in his life that he could not stand, irredeemable. No way in hell he could ever like him or be five feet near him without trying to cut off that stupid smile or gouge out those wide eyes of his.

There they were. Having a tea party like old childhood friends.

His eye twitched again as he clenched his fists.

"You doing alright," J.J. said to Yuri. "You look like you ran a marat-."

"Shut up!" Yuri shouted.

"Yuri, be nice," Isabel said. "J.J. was in the neighborhood, and he decided to visit."

"Neighborhood?" Yuri shouted before turning back to J.J. "You live in fucking Canada, you slimeball! And now you know where I fucking live? You probably infected this place with your inbred Canadian germs."

"Yuri," Isabel said while standing up. She left her mug on the table as she grabbed Yuri's arm. He instantly twitched his arm to shake off her tender touch.

Isabel blinked while Yuri seethed. "I want him out," he said through his teeth. "Now!"

"Yuri," Isabel tried again. "Me and J.J. met at NHK, and...what can I say?" Isabel said with a shrug.

"We just hit it off," J.J. said with a small smile. "Now, I know we've gotten off on the wrong foot, Yuri," J.J. said. He stood up, black sunglasses perched on his head. He walked over and stuck out a hand at Yuri. "We've never been on speaking terms, and I know you don't like me because I've beaten you so many times in competition, but that's on the ice. Off the ice, I know you could benefit from more J.J. in your life. So...friends?"

Yuri felt more rage rising up his chest. The two were smiling at him like he was being told the funniest joke in the world. He smacked his lips like an annoyed mom and glared at J.J. "I don't hate you because you beat me," Yuri said. "I hate you because you're annoying. Everything about you. Your hair and your face and your voice. Everything about you is shit. Even the way you walk is annoying. Like your some big bad gangster. "

J.J. nodded, his smile not faltering. "I'm sorry."

Yuri choked on his own saliva as he took a step back. He needed to process the sheer insanity happening in front of him. "What?"

"I'm sorry about how good my face and my voice are," J.J. said. He took back his hand and scratched the back of his neck. "But I guess I shouldn't have compared you to a girl so much, even if you do look like one."

"J.J.," Isabel said. "You're not really doing the whole apologizing thing right."

"You said self-deprecating," J.J. said to Isabel. "Normally, I say how 'great' my voice and face is. I just said 'good' instead this time."

Isabel shook her head like a disappointed mom and smile at Yuri. "He's a work in progress."

Yuri took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He tried a new relaxation technique he learned from school.

Count to three.

Open.

The two in front of him were still grinning at him. It was really weirding Yuri out.

"Can you two stop smiling? I'm not a clown."

Ignoring him, J.J. reached down into his black jeans pocket. He looked at his phone. "Gee, look at the time," he said in a loud voice.

"Your plane is leaving?" Isabel said.

J.J. patted her on the head. "Don't worry. I'll be back next week. You still have to show me where that Indian place is you were talking about."

Isabel laughed as a faint blush went over face from the contact. "Alright, you have fun back up in Canada. Don't eat any yellow snow."

"Wouldn't dream of it," J.J. said with a wink. "Bye, Izzy."

Yuri steamed on the spot as J.J. gathered his belongings. They were even on nickname terms at this point. Just how much had passed him by in the past two weeks. Yuri needed to sort this out now. He swallowed, regretting his decision before nudging J.J. on the shoulder as he passed by him. "I'll take you outside."

"It's okay. I know my way ou-."

"I need to say something to you," Yuri whispered as they walked to the door beside each other. "Shut up, and let's go to the elevator."

* * *

In the elevator, J.J. felt the rumblings of a conflict forming in his chest. He was always a bit squeamish when fights broke out, so he tried to avoid it. Unlike the image presented on the ice, he never liked to appear physically dangerous if somebody said something he did not like.

Once the silver doors on the elevator closed, Yuri spun himself around to face J.J. He looked down at the shorter skater. The traveling cubicle zoomed down the shaft.

"Yuri, I want to s-."

"Listen to me," Yuri said in a steady tone.

J.J. looked in surprise. The agitated Yuri was gone. Instead, there was a calm desperation with him. His eyes were more narrow, but the seething rage was replaced with a quiet, even tone.

"Yes, Yuri?"

Yuri coughed before looking back up at J.J. "I don't like you."

"I know."

"And I will never like you," Yuri said, his emerald eyes softening. "But for reasons that I can't begin to think up, Isabel likes you. So...I can't do anything about that. If she's happy, then I'm okay with it. But I want you to know something very important. If you do one fucking thing wrong; if you wink at her or make a joke she doesn't like or do anything to make her feel just the _tiniest_ bit bad or uncomfortable, then I will end you. This isn't a joke, Leroy. I've been through a lot lately, and I don't have time for your bullshit. If you do anything wrong, I will cut off your legs so you can never skate again. Then, I'll cut off your arms so you can never move again. Then, I'll cut off your head because I feel like it."

"Yuri, I wo-."

"Just promise me," Yuri said, his eyes soft and his posture slightly slouched. "Promise that you won't do anything to hurt her. I don't know you, and I don't trust you."

J.J. looked down at Yuri and put his hand on his slim shoulder. Yuri looked up in surprise at the sudden touch. "Yuri," J.J. began in a low tone. "Do you really think that low of me that I would do anything like that?"

"Duh," Yuri shot back.

J.J. chuckled and let go of his shoulder. "I know you don't like me, and I know it'll be hard to get your trust. But I promise I won't say or do anything to make her uncomfortable. I'm learning a bunch of things from her already. We text a lot since NHK, and I think your lucky to have someone so optimistic about life in your corner."

"What about your fiancee?"

J.J. sighed. "It's been difficult, but I have a feeling we will get through it. I have a plan, and Isabel is helping me. But despite what you think of me, I really want to change and be better to other people that I've been bad to before. My fiancee. Otabek. You. Even that Thai guy that's friends with Yuuri. I texted him and apologized for interrupting his press conference that one time. That's hard for me to do. Apologizing. But you don't have to worry about me and her. I'm the same, great old J.J. with a new twist. I'm like your favorite rap song, but the improved remix version."

"I hate rap."

He chuckled. "You get the idea, but you know how great you have it, right? You have a really special person in your life now, Yuri. I hope you realize that."

Yuri nodded. Perhaps he jumped the gun with J.J. Yes, he was still annoying and the fact that he knows where he sleeps will make him check all the locks on the front door three times at night. However, there was a genuine aura around J.J. that he had never received before. Besides, if Isabel can help J.J. not be a complete arrogant loser, than there is hope for him still.

J.J. turned back to face the elevator doors. He whistled in exhaustion. "This has been a long elevator ride, hasn't it?"

"Damn elevator is always slow."

"By the way, sorry about your grandfather."

"Thank you."

When the doors opened, J.J. walked out. When he stood in front of the elevator in the lobby, he turned around.

"You love her, don't you," J.J. said with a sly grin.

"Shut up, J.J," Yuri spat back. "Don't ruin the moment."

J.J. gave a quick wink as the doors closed.

* * *

 **As always, make sure you leave reviews! They are important to me and they mean the world to me!**

 **This was just a fun catch-up chapter so you know what happened after the NHK. I didn't feel the need to write a drawn out death scene or anything like that. Too overdramatic for me. So here is some fun stuff for you.**

 **Q of the day: If Yuri had a favorite movie, what do you think it would be? I know He said earlier in the fic that it was russian, but what movie do you think would fit him best?**

 **So is J.J. now an active member of this group? Has Yuri found an unlikely ally? Will this affect the story at all? Let me know if you think the plot or dialogue are good or bad. Just comment on anything you want!**

Shout out time:

bstarqueen: Your reviews really do give me so much energy to make the best chapters. Thank you for reviewing, and I hope you stay for the rest of the show! Yes, Yuri's emotions were on display, and his attempt to give up right there on the ice was deterred by his realization that he does have a family. However, he is still sorting these feelings out, and his grandfather dying probably doesn't help. Things will work out eventually. I'm sure of it (kind of).

Applejack456: Emotion translating to skating is a big theme in the show, and I wanted to capitalize on that. What happens when the emotions you're supposed to skate are not clear? How do you skate confused? Maybe Yuri will have the answer soon.

 **Thank you to all that review. Keep it up! Get others in on this story. Follow, favorite. But most of all: review! We are currently the #1 reviewed non-AU English language fic on this site. I know it's early in the fandom's history, but that is still phenomenal. Thank you so much!**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	28. First Date

Skate Canada was scheduled for the weekend before Christmas. As luck would have it, Victor's birthday was on Christmas which fell on a Monday. Most of the skaters coming to the competition across the Detroit River in Windsor planned on staying an extra day for his party.

Yes, Victor just had to hold a birthday party for himself. Yuuri thought it was a little self-serving, but that was most things Victor did. He was a simple man, so Yuuri learned with lightning speed all of his tics and habits.

For example, never give Victor a credit card.

"But they're _so_ cute, Yuuri," Victor said with wide, puppy dog eyes in front of the pen of kittens frolicking in the pet store.

Yuuri pulled Victor away from the display. "We're not here for pets, Victor! We have to order your cake."

Victor pouted and crossed his arms in front of him. "You're no fun when we go shopping."

Yuuri took his hand and shoved Victor forward down the walkway. The marble floor in the shopping mall shined from the tungsten lights hanging overhead. The mall had three floors with sliver walls and windows displaying new clothes and gadgets. Cinnamon perfume wafted through the lukewarm air as they passed cologne stand after cologne stand. Neither of them had been to the mall before, so it was an exciting experience for Victor (and terrifying for Yuuri).

Victor wanted to prepare all of the decorations and food for his birthday party, but in the back of his mind, he was looking at other things. It was not the first Christmas he had spent with Yuuri, but he wanted to get the perfect gift. After all, the Grand Prix Finals was going to take up everybody's time during the next month. His party would be the last respite from the stresses of skating season before their trip to Qatar.

Victor stopped in front of a jewelry store. An emerald broach blinked on a stand as a silver chain draped itself around the edges of the golden frame. Victor stared at the metal with a dull glint in his eye. Victor knew he was not good at giving gifts. His impulsive and reckless state made it hard for him to gauge the right presents for the right person. That was part of the reason why he dragged Yuuri away from his laptop and brought him to the mall.

"Yuuri," Victor said. "What do you think the kids would like for Christmas?"

Yuuri stopped in his tracks and looked back at Victor. He stood in front of the display cases in the jewelry store with a small smile resting on his chiseled face.

The Japanese man sighed and wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "By the kids, you mean Yurio and Isabel?"

Victor nodded at him.

Yuuri crossed over the sleek ivory floor to Victor's side. He bumped into him with a small knock of the elbows as they looked down at the jewels in the display case. Victor had been stressing about gifts ever since they got back from Japan. His anxiety was beginning to add on to Yuuri's perpetual state of nervousness. His fingernails had been nitten to the nub for three weeks straight at this point.

Yuuri tugged on the gray sleeve of Victor's button-down sweatshirt. "I doubt either of them care that much for jewelry, Victor."

Victor shook his head. Suddenly, he wrapped an arm around Yuuri and yanked him closer to him. Their foreheads touched, and Yuuri saw his reflection in Victor's ice blue eyes, growing in size from the proximity he held Yuuri.

"Victor!" Yuuri yelped. "What are you doing?"

Victor smirked as his firm lips skimmed Yuuri's in a quick brush. Yuuri felt his face grow warm as Victor smiled at him. He got an evil pleasure from making Yuuri nervous in public. He felt a small tingle run up his spine knowing that he could make his fiancee blush and effect his body in such a way. Even after two years of intimacy, he still acted as if they had only brushed hands for the first time.

"I want everything to be perfect for you, Yuuri," Victor purred. "I have a surprise planned for you the night after my party. I hope you're ready for it."

Yuuri's cheeks flashed bright red as Victor's breathe tickled the peach-fuzz on his cheeks. "Victor, don't say things like that in public. You're making it weird."

Victor chuckled. "It has been a while since we did it in public, hasn't it?"

"Victor!" Yuuri whispered in a shocked tone. "That was one time, and it wasn't in public. It was a bar bathroom."

Victor shifted his gaze from Yuuri's eyes to a store across the hall. A costume shop with bright logos and signs invited Victor's curiosity. There were costumes of colspay, fantasy wear, and other funny get-ups hung on racks by the large window displays. An idea popped into Victor's head. Noting the date on the wall clock hanging above the store, Victor grinned as he looked back down at Yuuri.

"Yuuri," Victor said while holding him. "There's a costume shop behind you."

"I'm not doing the cop-and-prisoner roleplay again, Victor," Yuuri spoke in a shaky voice. "The handcuffs cut the blood off from my wrists."

Victor shook his head. "It's not that. It's just that today is Friday."

"I'm aware of that."

"Guess who is having their first date tonight?"

It took a second before Yuuri remembered the date. He gasped as his mind revealed the plan Victor was cooking in his head.

At Victor's prodding, Yurio had finally asked Isabel to go out on a real date a week ago. He thought it would be a good way to boost the young skater's morale that had bene hurt from his grandfather's death. However, being ignorant of the city, he had no idea where to go. Fortunately, Isabel had the perfect place for their first date, and it was supposed to be a surprise location for Yurio to find out later. However, Yuuri and Victor knew the exact place, and the sly Russian man cradling Yuuri knew just what to do in this situation.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Victor said as the costume shop flashed a neon "open" sign above the double glass doors.

"You know Yurio will kill us if he sees us."

Victor laughed while running his long fingers through Yuuri's soft obsidian hair. "Nothing wrong with providing some adult supervision."

* * *

The last day of school for the semester fell on a Friday. Yuri tapped his pencil on the wooden desk, supporting his head with his arm.

Ever since coming back from Detroit, people had been treating Yuri like he was a newborn about to explode in tears at the slightest movement. His classmates presented him pitiful, condescending looks with every entrance into a classroom. He felt like the classroom's angsty teenager that secretly slit his wrists and wrote depressing poetry. A small pit grew in his stomach every time he garnered one of those looks. He tried to put his head down and dive into the boring conundrums of American History, but he could not find the strength to pay attention. Most of the time, he chewed on his pencil (a habit learned from Isabel) and looked down at the notebook paper in his clear plastic binder.

"Need a massage, Yuri?" The loud, annoying George shouted. "It can help those bruises you got when you fell that time on the ice."

A smack. "Shut up, George."

"I was just being nice."

Honestly, the whole class was very worried about him. They weren't just concerned because he was a rich, famous skater from Russia (although that was a prime reason for concern), but the class had grown to like the awkward teenager. Every time he flipped his long blonde locks or rolled his eyes while the teacher droned on about the Missouri Compromise, Yuri captured the class' attention. All of the students wanted to be Yuri's friend, but no matter how many jokes or promises of completed homework given, Yuri barely spoke a vowel to anyone other than Isabel.

Considering Yuri's short temper, they were also just a tiny bit scared of him.

"He probably knows people in the mob," George said while wiping his brow.

It was just after finals, and the students stood outside of the classroom in the wide hallway. Finishing later than other classmates, they were the last ones to leave the hot confines and feel the breeze wafting over the marble floors of the private school. George took a drag from an apple juice box in his hands while Shinra adjusted the black tie on his school uniform.

"Well, he wouldn't be the first person from the mob to come to Detroit," Shinra said with a grin.

"He seems like an 'all-bark, no bite' guy anyway," George said.

"Who does?"

George squeezed the juice box in shock as he whipped himself around. Yuri stood a foot below him, but glared up at him with an unamused expression. He crossed his arms like rubber bands around his chest while peering daggers at him. A black hoodie slung over his uniform with skin tight black jeans hugging his slender legs.

"Ah! Yuri," George said as apple juice shot into his eye. He rubbed it with a coarse finger and tried to assuage the sting in his brown eyes. "Didn't see you there."

"Hi, Yuri," Shinra said while waving like a prom queen at him. This was a golden opportunity for them. Yuri was actually talking to them for once.

"I have a question for you assholes," Yuri said in a low voice. "I wanted to ask you about Isabel."

"I think she's waiting outside for you," George said in a smart aleck tone.

Yuri gritted his teeth. His patience was thin enough from having to be social for once, but with the past few weeks and a date looming in the evening, he wanted to get to the bottom of his queries. "No, I want to know what you know about her."

George raised a thick black eyebrow. He squeezed his juice box and tilted his head. "Shouldn't you know that?"

"I mean...what do you think about her?"

"What do we think about her?" Shinra blinked. "She's fine."

"Fine?"

"Yeah, people like her," George said. "She's always been a little weird, but that's expected being a private school student from Eight Mile. Not a normal thing."

Yuri sighed. He was not getting the answers he anticipated. Digging his black sneakers into the marble floor, he clenched his fists as the two classmates looked at him like lost puppies. He needed conversation starters for his date, otherwise the awkwardness would kill him. He thought that learning more about what others knew about her would help him say the right things.

"Why do you think she likes me?" Yuri asked.

"Huh?" Shinra asked. "That's a weird thing to ask."

"She likes because you are you," George said with a shrug.

"How do you know?"

"The fact that she's your girlfriend," George said in a sarcastic tone.

"I just never really got an opinion from anyone else. Everything I know about her is in a vacuum."

"You came at a great time for her," Shinra said. "Normally, she was the hyper and weird girl in the class. Guys asked her out all the time becaus-."

"Because she's hot," George finished.

A slap. "George, you can't call other people's girlfriends hot," Shinra said.

"Why? It's a compliment," George said as he rubbed his arm.

Yuri was about to give up. Speaking to these dumb Americans was useless. Also, he needed to get his clothes ready. Victor told him that dates requierd a whole new style of dress, and they needed to go over what he was going to wear. He tapped his feet on the ground, showcasing his antsy state.

"But I guess everybody liked her fine," Shinra continued to Yuri's chagrin. "She's always been nice and given us a few laughs. Although we're glad you came along when you did. She had been very quiet and stuck to herself throughout the day before you arrived. Ever since her dad ended up in the hospital, she was really closed off. The good ne-."

"What?"

Pause. Shinra and George blinked with disbelief as Yuri felt his eyes flare up with surprise.

"Repeat what you said."

"I was saying," Shinra said slowly. "It was good news you came when you did because Isabel had been different since her dad ended up in the hospital."

"Her dad is in the fucking hospital?"

"Wait a second," George pointed at Yuri. "You didn't know Isabel's dad was in the hospital?"

"What? I-I...no!" Yuri exclaimed. "She barely tells me anything about her home life. All I've gotten out of her is that she lives in some shitty neighborhood with her father. That's it."

The three classmates looked at each other. Yuri felt his nerves tighten in his spinal cord. His throat dried up as he processed the news. He rarely asked questions about Isabel's life, assuming she did not want to talk much about it. However, the fact that she was hiding so many things from him, including big news about her father, made him more than worried. Why was she hiding things from him? Did she not trust him? Was this not serious to her? Yuri also slapped himself in his head. How could he have been so selfish to go this long without knowing any of this?

"Yuri," George said after a long silence. Yuri shook his head, ridding his brain of his self-doubt monologue as he looked at George. "I think you and Isabel need to talk."

"She's been through a lot," Shinra said. "I'm surprised you don't know that about her."

"I do know!" Yuri shouted. "I know her. Her last name is Flynn and she's been here her whole life and she loves the movie 'Airplane' so much she quotes it every day."

"Yuri, I kn-."

"Her favorite color is purple and she wants to go to this big culinary school after she graduates. She loves Motown and doesn't know the definition of personal space."

"We get it," George said. "But that's not what this is about. You need to talk to her."

"It's not our right to tell you about any of her past," Shinra said. "But I want you to know that she's had it rough. Rougher than a lot of people in this school. That's all I'm going to say. It's up to her to tell you the rest."

* * *

The Oslo sushi place and nightclub was abuzz with activity on a Friday night. The first floor of the place was a nightclub with a chartreuse dance floor that lit up like a exploding rainbow. The pounding bass of electronica shook the wine glasses on the glass bar as neon lights filtered through a long fish tank underneath the bar. The bubbly sizzle of mimosas and fizzy vodka sloshed in shot glasses as the DJ changed the tracks flowing out of the tall speakers underneath the nightclub sign.

In the back of the nightclub, a long flight of stairs spiraled up to the second floor. Up on the second floor was the actual restaurant. It was a large room with lime green walls. A sushi bar sat at the back of the room next to the doorway to the kitchen. Four wide table with chestnut brown table cloth placed underneath the white chandeliers above them. The wooden floors were splotched with dropped fragments of shrimp and raw salmon as snapping crab legs and knives pierced the tables.

Yuri prodded the limp slice of raw salmon in front of him. "What is this?"

"Sashimi," Isabel said. Yuri looked over at her, a small expression of disgust on his face.

Before they had arrived at the restaurant, Yuri had to go through the wringer of what to wear. Victor sat him in his room and threw on every single fabric of clothing in his small closet. Yuri cared little for fashion, making Victor nearly cry with how awful his wardrobe was in reality. Fortunately, Victor found a nice silver vest with a white dress shirt and green tie that matched Yuri's emerald eyes. Yuri had the hardest frown on his face as Victor forced the vest and khaki dress pants on him. Crossing his arms in annoyance, Victor and Yuuri took picture after picture of him. No doubt Victor had put it on social media already.

When he walked down to the apartment lobby, Isabel stood in the foyer waiting for him. Yuri gawked at her tight red dress and how her deep blue eyes appeared to sparkle underneath the lights of the golden lights above them. The short dress was complemented by her black high heels and the pixie-cut hair that appeared pressed from a recent shower. Her bright grin hid away the blush she held in her face. She looked amazing, and Yuri could not believe he was thinking such things about any girl.

" _You clean up really well, Yurio."_ She said as he walked up to her. At the same height as each other, their eyes connected as Yuri tried to shrug off his embarrassment.

 _"Uh...you too, Isabel."_ Yuri said as he tried to break eye contact.

Yuri proceeded to hustle out of the apartment and call a taxi before he passed out from the tension he felt.

Yuri could not help but have his eyes wander over her as she flashed a knife in her hand. She smacked the knife on the kitchen as she cut another slice. The Oslo was one of those elegant restaurants where you had to prepare your own dish. Yuri, not being adept at cooking, was having a tough time putting together his plate of sashimi and peeled shrimp.

"What kind of restaurant makes you cook your own food?" Yuri said with an annoyed pout.

Isabel was about to tease Yuri with how cute he looked when he was annoyed by food, but she decided to help him out instead. She reached over and took one of his petite hands in hers. Grasping a long table knife, she guided the knife in his hand towards the edge of the salmon sliver.

"You have to roll the knife," She said. "You don't slash the knife right down. You roll it."

She took her palm and pushed down on Yuri's hand causing the bottom edge of the knife to pierce the fish. Rolling her hand forward, the knife sawed the pink salmon in a straight line. She let go of his hands, Yuri staring down at the bronze plate.

"Now drip some lemon onto the dish and season the fish."

Yuri looked back up at her. "Season with what?"

"The oregano?"

"I don't know what that is, lady."

The moment Isabel laughed, Yuri plunked his head down onto the table.

Meanwhile, a Japanese man with a thick handlebar moustache and a raspberry beret looked up from the bottom of the hat brim. He spied on the couple as he shucked the oysters underneath him as he stretched out the arms on his yellow overcoat. Across from him, a silver-haired man with a grey beard hanging around his chin turned and looked over his shoulder at the sound of laughter. His thick wool sweater clung around his neck like a noose as his baggy jeans hugged his hips.

They were both hunched over the table, hoping they would not be spotted by Yuri.

"They sound like they're having a good time," Yuuri said as he patted down his fake moustache.

After a small debate, Victor and Yuuri decided to spy on Isabel and Yuri during their date. Buying disguises, they hovered across the room from Isabel and Yuri so they would not be caught in the act. Sure, they should respect their privacy. However, seeing Yuri's first date in action was an opportunity that Victor would not pass up.

Victor stroked his fake beard like an old wizard. "Isabel is having the time of her life. Yuri not so much."

"Should we do something?"

Victor shook his head. "We can't blow our cover, my little pork cutlet. We'll intervene if we need to."

Just then, Victor's phone buzzed. He reached down and looked at the screen.

 _Have they kissed yet?-Christophe_

Victor shook his head as he replied in a negative. Being a social butterfly, Victor could not help himself but tell most of the skating world about Yuri and his date. A couple of them were so interested, they asked him to livestream the whole event. Sadly, Yuuri shut down that idea and relegated Victor to texting the events to everybody instead in a group chat.

 _Not yet. I doubt they'd do it until they leave the restaurant.-Victor_

Yuuri sighed as he focused his attention on his sashimi again. This man kept getting him in more and more trouble. If Yuri found them, there would be no survivors. He didn't bother to look at the texts in the group chat. They would cause him too much stress.

 _Are they making any sexual contact?-Christophe_

 _Dammit, Chris. They're only 17.-Michele_

 _My question then stands.-Christophe_

Victor looked back up at the couple. Isabel was teaching Yuri how to peel the shrimp. She slipped off the hard skin of the shrimp like scissors cutting paper. When Yuri tried to do it, he broke the entire shrimp in half.

 _She's teaching Yuri to peel shrimp._

A short pause. Then, Victor's phone vibrated so fast it could give him a massage.

 _OMG! So cute!-Guang Hong_

 _Take pics, Victor! We need them!-Phichit_

 _Sara, remember when you and I made that gumbo?-Emil_

 _What?! You cooked food with my sister? I'll kill u, bastard!-Michele_

"Ow!"

Victor looked up and saw a spurt of blood. Yuuri clutched his hand, a small trickle of blood raining down from his pinky finger. He grimaced in pain as a tall, bald waiter saw them and rushed over to them. Before the old man could say anything, Victor shushed the waiter.

"He's okay," Victor said. The waiter shrugged and turned away.

"Victor, I'm bleeding," Yuuri choked out.

"You're going to get us caught," Victor said. "Just put a napkin around your cut. I'll kiss it better later."

Looking back at the couple, Yuri and Isabel appeared to be chatting about something. The body language in both of them showed more calm and relaxation than earlier. Isabel was slicing away as she worked through the whole king salmon in front of her like a professional chef. The knife flashed as she plunged it into the scaly remains while deboning it. Yuri squeezed the lemon in his hand, only to have some of it spurt onto his face.

Victor did all he could to stop the laughter bubbling in his chest. He scribed the events on the live chat.

 _BWAHAHAHAHA!-Mila_

 _LOL! Yuri and love are just not compatible.-Georgi_

 _More compatible than you and your eight ex-girlfriends.-Michele_

 _How dare you! I didn't know she only cared for woman!-Georgi_

 _Don't mind Michele, Georgi. He's just mad that Sara has a crush on me.-Emil_

 _Shut up!-Michele_

As the live chat exploded with arguing, Victor turned back to the table.

Yuri had to admit that he was having a great time. Sure, he sucked at cooking, and the lemon that he squeezed onto his face stung. The good news was that the person next to him was phenomenal. Isabel knew her way around the cooking tools and seasoning needed to make a good dish. Why she did not work at this restaurant already, he had no idea. She just seemed so happy as she manhandled the food in front of them. There was a joy that electrocuted her as she rushed through the salmon and sashimi with ease. The raw fish smelled amazing with thin soy sauce pooling around the sparkling fatty tuna framing the edges of the bronze plates.

Isabel stepped out of her groove when she felt a vibration from her phone. She glanced down at the screen and unlocked it.

 _Have you two kissed yet?-JJ_

Isabel blushed as she furiously texted back.

 _No, but I wish he would already._

Isabel looked over at Yuri. She asked JJ. for any advice he had before the date in order to not make it awkward. JJ gave her some valuable tips about making small talk, but he also said that she would be fine. Ultimately, she confided in J.J. that her goal for the date was to get a kiss from Yuri. Based off their earlier conversation, JJ got the feeling that she was anxious to achieve the next level of the relationship, so he tried to give her a men's perspective on how to make things easier. Unfortunately, JJ noted that Yuri was not a typical guy, so she had to be more forward than before.

She had tried every trick in the book. The big smile. The twirling of her hair. Leaning in while tasting some of his salmon. Taking her hand in his. This boy did not get the hint. She remembered the intoxicating, almost hypnotic kiss on the rooftop. She craved that feeling again, and she wanted it with Yuri. It felt like the next natural step for them.

Another text.

 _Have you tried the Lady And The Tramp yet?-JJ_

Isabel furrowed her eyebrows.

 _What?_

The reply was almost instant.

 _You stick something in your mouth and get him to bite the other side of it. Then, you two keep eating until your lips meet._

Isabel smirked as she looked over at Yuri, who was busy adjusting the shrimp rolls on his plate.

 _You're a genius, JJ. I never thought of that._

 _I aim to please.-JJ_

Isabel put on what she hoped was a seductive expression as she narrowed her royal blue eyes and flipped back her blonde hair behind her ears. Her mouth barely agape, she wore a mischievous smirk as she turned to Yuri and leaned forward. Making sure her chest stuck out in her short red dress, she reached down and grabbed a piece of long salmon. Shoving it halfway in her mouth, the flappy meat hung down like a loose piece of gum.

"Yuri," she whispered by his ear with the salmon muffling her voice.

Yuri, who was distracted by the shrimp on his plate, leaped up in place and clutched his chest. "Stop trying to give me a heart attack."

He turned to face her. He came face to face with her just inches away from his face. She peered at him like he was a piece of meat ready for tasting as she moved closer to him, the salmon almost creating a bridge between their lips. Yuri felt his breath float away into the stuffed air as he blushed from their close proximity. His eyes grew wide as he felt butterflies in his stomach. His heart thumped against his chest as Isabel kept her gaze pointed at him.

"Uh...what are you doing?" Yuri asked in a stammer.

"Sharing with you." Isabel said with the salmon in her mouth.

Yuri swallowed. "But...there's plenty of food."

"But I'm hungry and I want to share this with you," she said as the salmon wiggled from her speaking.

If there was a way to look attractive and hilarious at the same time, Isabel had it nailed by speaking with salmon sticking out of her mouth, Yuri thought.

Victor did everything he could to stop the shriek forming in his throat. He shook Yuuri hard to grab his attention and pointed over at the two. Yuuri gasped as he saw their closeness and slapped his two hands on his face in shock.

"No way," Yuuri whispered. "Will that work?"

Victor immediately went to his phone.

 _OMGOMGOMG They're about to kiss!_

 _OHMYGOD!-Guang_

 _CALL 911!-Mila_

 _My old rinkmate is growing up!-Georgi_

 _Take Pictures!-Phichit_

 _Young Love. So pure and hormonal.-Christophe_

Yuri felt the wires in his brain short circuit as Isabel held the salmon in her mouth. There was a small barrier between his instincts and his brain. His instincts told him to take the salmon and finish it with the kiss Isabel was practically begging for. They had been dating for a month now. It was about time for it, right? However, the brain in him said that this was a bad thing. He was supposed to use this date to learn more about her past. She was such a mysterious figure for a girl that appeared as blunt and open as her. Yet, he still knew so little about her, it made him feel ashamed to call himself her boyfriend.

And their first kiss in a sushi place? See deserved better. Also, what if Isabel was just teasing him? He would die of embarrassment if this was just another of her jokes that he took too literally.

He had to make a decision now.

Yuri sighed. Now or never.

He reared his head forward and opened his mouth around the salmon.

* * *

 **Cliffhanger!**

 **Oh no. What happens now?! What happens afterwards? Find out next time!**

 **I must admit, the image of Isabel talking with a piece of salmon sticking out of her mouth is hilarious to me. Especially since she is doing this for such a wanton reason. I hope it made you chuckle a bit.**

 **Shout out time:**

QuirkyGirl775: I am so happy that I am still attracting new viewers! I hope you stick around, and thank you so much for your reviews! I cherish them.

Applejack465: I wanted to throw people a curveball, and I think it's working so far with these new developments. Let me know how I can make it even better!

Morlana: The funeral will be some other time. I just did not want to harp on these problems.

bstarqueen: J.J. never hurt anybody! That's why I never quite understood how people could dislike him. yeah, he's arrogant and loud, but he never hurt anybody. I just think its funny how the one guy Yuri hates, his girlfriend has to be friendly with. And it looks like it's affecting things already!

 **Thank you so much. As always, do your best to review as much and as long as you can. Tell me anything you feel! Think of it as your good deed of the day! Also, spread word and share this around!**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	29. New Plans

The breeze swirling above the Detroit River brushed Yuri's blonde hair like a feather brushing the cold ground. The night was unseasonably warm for mid-December in Michigan, and his dress vest and shirt shielded his arms from the cool air. The bright streetlights lining the edge of the waterfront painted the dark sidewalk with a dull pallor of white. The black sky cast a dark cocoon over the city; absent of any stars from the lights of the skyscrapers and casinos blinking like fireflies in a forest of concrete.

Yuri blew out a long, warm breath. Silver fog disappeared in front of his emerald eyes as he shoved his hands into his khaki pockets. He leaned on the railing and stared out at the waters, the cold bronze metal kissing his pale hands. The tranquil ripples rolling past him twinkled with the reflection of the street lights above the water like the jet planes flying over the city.

"Hey, Yurio," A heavy Russian voice said.

Yuri furrowed his eyebrows and frowned. "I don't want to talk to you." He said without snapping his gaze from the river.

Victor had taken off his fake beard and thrown it in a trash can. Rubbing his face to get rid of the glue, he stopped a few yards to Yuri's right. Yuuri huffed his way over to the two, having to rope in a few deep breaths from running up to him. He hunched over his thighs, looking up with watery eyes beyond his glasses.

"Yurio, what's going on?" Victor asked with a small smile. He reached over and grabbed Yuri by the shoulder. "I thought you were on your date with Isabel?"

Yuri, ignorant to Victor and Yuuri's snoping of his date, shrugged off Victor's hand and turned over to them. In the lights by the waterfront, Victor's grey hair shined with droplets of sweat glistening on his and Yuuri's hair tips. The creases on Victor's dark jeans crumbled as he took a few steps back to give the complacent Yuri space.

He shook his head and swiped a strand of his hair from the front of his eye. "Isabel is hiding something."

Victor blinked as he thought back to the last hour.

* * *

The phone rang.

Isabel, in her surprise, bit down on the flapping piece of raw salmon in her mouth. Breaking in two, the end facing Yuri broke and plummeted to the ground. The salmon slapped the ground of the marble white floor in the Oslo restaurant with a squelch.

Yuri raised an eyebrow.

Isabel swallowed, mentally cursing at whoever decided to break the moment. She finished the salmon in her mouth before breaking the reverie between the two of them.

She snapped her head down to look at her phone.

A gasp.

Her eyes grew wide as she thrusted the phone up to her ear. She began to turn away from Yuri, an apologetic look on her face.

"I have to take this," Isabel said. She looked down in embarrassment as she began to walk out of the room.

Yuri felt like reaching out to her as she hustled out of the room and thumped down the stairway. He stood frozen, his mouth wide open in shock as he tried to process what just happened in front of him. Isabel never ran out of the room that way before, and leaving him in the middle of the restaurant. The chefs continued to run around the room aroun him as clanking plates shifted in front of him.

"It's okay," An older man with a goatee said to him as he took away an empty plate. "I've been dumped before, too."

Yuri nearly slapped the man at assuming such a thing.

Meanwhile, Victor texted the bad news to the group chat.

 _No kiss._

A second later, the fireworks.

 _Nooooooo!-Phichit_

 _God Dammit. Knew he's mess this up.-Mila_

 _Told you! Yuri and love are just not a thing that works.-Georgi_

 _What the hell happened?-Christophe._

Victor frowned as he texted his response. Ignoring Yuuri and his cries about his cut finger, he pressed his fingers on the screen with the speed of a swimming shrimp.

 _IDK. She got a call on her phone, and just ran out. Don't know if she's coming back._

 _Probably a side guy. Can't trust white girls.-Christophe_

 _Chris, you idiot. You're white!-Michele._

 _Aren't you all white?-Guang_

 _Not me. I'm Czech.-Emil_

 _You're so stupid, Emil.-Michele_

* * *

After those events, Isabel came up and said she had to leave. Yuri nodded as she went off into a taxi and drove away. She hardly gave an excuse, saying she just needed to see something. It was such a surprise that Yuri was unsure if she was joking or not. He left the restaurant just a few seconds later, shaking off the glass of champagne that had been dumped on him by one of the dancers in the nightclub on the first floor.

He decided to take a walk, bracing for the gentle cool that blanketed Detroit. By himself, he paced across the streets of Downtown until coming across the waterfront.

Walking with leisure down the edge of the park, Yuri looked out at the shimmering water that reflected the skyline opposite the shore.

He shivered with the worry that plagued his mind. Loosening the emerald tie around his neck, he kicked a pebble on the stone sidewalk while thinking. With Skate Canada just a few days away, his spot in the Grand Prix Finals was still up for grabs. He was not sure if he could face anybody if he did not make it in. On top of that, Victor had still not allowed him practice for fear of injury in his emotional state. He knew his programs were not up to par for the Finals, so any minute not on the ice irked Yuri like a blood-sucking mosquito.

Isabel was giving him a migraine, as well. She seemed a little more out of it than usual. She was forgetting things easier than even Victor did. She talked a little less as well, which would normally comfort Yuri so he could give his ears a break. Even her eyes appeared to be a little duller than usual, her sparkling cerulean eyes dimmed with what appeared to be worry. That smile was still there, but the wrinkled that usually formed right under the eyelids were gone. It seemed forced, almost strenuous. He thought she was trying to make him feel better after his grandfather's death, but something else was bothering her. Leaving in the middle of their date was the more proof.

Shaking his head to Victor, he repeated his statement. "She's hiding something, Victor."

Victor tilted his head. "What do you mean? You should still be with her. Me and Yuuri," Victor said as he gestured at the Japanese man next to him while trying to keep the ruse of not spying on him. "We were just taking a stroll out here tonight. We didn't think you'd be here."

"I didn't either, you idiot," Yuri snapped. His fist clenched by his side. "Isabel left me in the middle of the shitty restaurant. She barely said goodbye to me."

Yuuri pushed back his glasses. "You know why?"

"If I did," Yuri seethed. "I'd tell you two idiots."

"So you think something's going on at home?" Victor asked.

"I know it is," Yuri said as he threw his hands up in frustration. "She's always asking me question after question about me and my life, but she doesn't say shit about hers. It's not fair. It pisses me off because I still don't know anything about her. I mean, she lives in a bad place in this shitty city. I know that, but that's it."

"Couldn't find much online, either," Yuuri said. Yuri and Victor looked at him with inquisitive expressions on their face.

Yuuri shrugged. "I look everyone up online. That's not weird."

"It's a little weird, Yuuri," Victor said.

Yuri groaned. "I don't care," he said. "I'm going to find out what's going on soon, and she better tell the truth when I do."

"Well," Victor said. "Threatening her won't help you much."

"I'm not threatening her."

"You sound like it."

"Because I care, Victor," Yuri said as he shivered again. "I fucking care about her, and she doesn't want to tell me anything. I don't know about her dad or her neighborhood. I don't even know if she's had any other boyfriends."

"Relax, Yurio," Yuuri said. "It'll be okay."

"It's not okay," Yuri shouted, causing Yuuri and Victor take a step back. "There's something wrong with her, and I have a problem with that."

"That's what caring about people feels like Yuri," Victor said.

Yuri's angry expression melted away with a look of confusion and epiphany cresting over his face. His shoulders slumped down as he released his fists from his clenched position. Shoving them in his pockets, he tore his gaze away from the couple in front of him and looked down at the cobblestones in the ground. He appeared dejected, almost vulnerable as his eyes narrowed with fatigue.

Victor stepped over with a smile on his face. He cupped Yuri's slim chin in his grasp and lifted his head up. The young teenager remained limp, looking up at Victor without hesitation for once.

"All of that worry and trouble you feel," Victor said. "That's what caring for people feels like. Every shout you make and every curse you throw about how little you know or control is just you caring for another person. I know it's not something your used to, but it shows that you care about her on another level. An agape level."

Yuuri cleared his throat as he pulled on the sleeve of his jacket. He smiled as he looked down at Yuri's face which was still in Victor's grasp. "I don't get on Victor about overspending or being late for meetings with the sponsors because I hate him, Yurio. The reason I get upset at him or you when you do something I don't like isn't because I wan't to annoy you. It's because I want to make sure our apartment is livable for all three of us. We want you to succeed, and we want you to be happy with Isabel."

Victor let go of Yuri's face. The young Russian teenager rubbed his chin as he looked up at the two adults in front of him. There was a weird kind of warmth being cornered away from the wind by their presence. There was also a strange, knowing look that Yuuri and Victor were giving him as if they were teasing him over his reaction. It sounded stupid to Yuri, but they almost looked like loving, caring parents looking out for their son.

Yuri mentally blanched. Even through all they had been through, that image was still kind of gross to him.

Kind of.

Yuri nodded at the two. "I didn't mean to shout and overreact," he said in a soft tone. "But I think I need a little help."

"What do you need, Yurio." Victor said with a small grin.

Yuri sighed. "I need to figure out what is going on. I don't want your help. This is between me and her. Skate Canada is coming up, so I'll ask her about it all then."

"Great," Yuuri said.

"And one more thing."

Victor crossed his arms. "Yes, Yurio?"

Yuri licked his lips, aware of the risk he was taking with his suggestions. However, they were necessary. There was no way, after the changes in his life, that he would be able to continue as normal even if he did make it to the Grand Prix Finals. He took a deep breath and looked at Victor deep in his bright blue eyes.

"I want to change my programs."


	30. Skate Canada

Windsor was a quaint town that most people drove through to get to their vacation homes for the summer. Sure, the tall buildings overlooked the Detroit River like a sailboat sifting through the cold waters towards shore. Even a casino glowed bright in the dusk of the early Winter night across from the WFCU Centre.

However, the city had a small town feel to it, Yuri thought as he looked out of the car window. Outside of the glass skyscrapers peaking into the cerulean sky, most of the buildings were brick-and-mortar variety. The balding shrubs lining the riverside street waved at them in the cautious breeze wafting over the waves as the sedan zoomed towards the arena. Granite steppes with planted pine trees obscuring the top of a hill led up to the arena, which sat on the summit like a castle overlooking a village. Shorter apartment buildings and townhouses stood above them as they neared the centre, clear windows reflecting the opposing Detroit skyline just across the river.

It was a city at a safe distance to view Detroit, Yuri thought.

Parking the car, Victor helped Yuuri stumble out of the cramped Ford, still feeling whiplash stinging the back of his neck.

"Sorry, Yuuri," Victor said with a nervous chuckle. "I guess I'm still not good at speed limits."

"You're not good at breaking, either," Yuri murmured in Russian.

Zipping up his blue and white Team Russia hoodie, he shoved his pockets into the tight black jeans he wore and sneered at the couple lagging behind him. Victor ushered Yuuri over the black asphalt, his overcoat flowing in the windy day's kiss. Yuuri, donning his best business suit with sleeked-back hair, tried to regain his footing on the Earth as he struggled to recover from Victor's horrible driving.

"You two are getting more annoying by the day," Yuri said at the entrance to the stadium.

Victor sighed as he kept pushing Yuuri forward like a broken down car.

Falling onto the chairs rinkside, Victor looked over to Yuri. He sat with his legs crossed and leaning back on the plush seat. His face in a permanent frown, he rested his head on a hand propped up by armrest. His sulking figure reflected back to them through a translucent plexiglass wall that separated them from the ice.

Victor was worried about the cocktail of emotions Yuri was going through. For the past two days, Isabel had hardly returned any of his texts or calls. When they had previously planned on coming to Skate Canada together, Isabel cancelled on the carpool just hours before the first day of the competition. Se made the excuse of catching a cold, but Victor knew that Yuri detected the lie faster than a leopard catching its prey. Yuri may be oblivious to romance, but he had enough street smarts to know a fib when it hit him in the face.

In fact, when Isabel finally picked up the phone, Victor heard the frustrated growls Yuri threw over the phone. Pacing like a caged lion in the living room in front of the balcony, he shook his head in an agitated manner while interrogating the girl.

 _"I know you don't have a cold,"_ Yuri said. _"You were perfectly fine last night before you left me at the restaurant."_

A cough.

 _"Don't pretend now! You don't have a cold."_

More warbled words.

 _"Whaddya mean you don't want to talk about it?"_

Victor creeped up behind the counter and heard Isabel's voice, small and lifeless, over the phone.

 _"I'm sorry, Yuri. I just don't want to talk about it."_

Yuri scoffed. " _That's funny."_

 _"What's funny?"_

 _"You don't feel like talking for once,"_ Yuri said, mirth dripping from his voice. " _Never thought I'd hear that from you."_

When Isabel hanged up right after his jab at her, Yuri shouted out and flung the phone onto the leather couch. Storming down the hall, he slammed the oak door leading to his room shut. Victor pulled out his phone and left a quick text to Isabel.

 _Yuri's just upset because he cares about you. Don't worry, he'll get over it._

No response came over his phone since then.

Victor took a sip from the mug of coffee in his cupholder. The free skate program was set to begin. Based off the events from the day before, J.J. looked poised to win on his home turf for the fourth year in a row. Otabek would come in second. All Yuri needed was for Christophe to stay in third, and he would book a trip to the Grand Prix Finals. However, if Jake Agreste, the new American skater, scored big and wound up on the podium, Yuri would need Otabek to fall to fourth to still be in contention. Otherwise, his season was over.

Even if that did happen, Yuri wanted to skate with Otabek at the Grand Prix Final in Qatar. He would sooner forfeit his spot than compete without Otabek.

Fortunately, Victor thought as the zamboni roared past them, the top three were far ahead. Unless Christophe died on the ice, the top six should be set for the Final.

Although for once, standings and skating may not be the top priority, Victor thought while drinking down his hot chocolate.

This was technically Yuri and Isabel's first fight as a couple. Sure, their entire relationship was based on teasing and quick-witted barbs, but that was playful akin to young schoolchildren masking a crush they had on each other. Yuri took things very personally and very quickly. Victor let out a sad chuckle when he noticed J.J stripping off his maple-flag red jacket by the edge of the rink. It reminded him of his antagonistic relationship with the other skaters. Whenever the taller man had teased Yuri about his feminine qualities, he freaked out. If Christophe made a lewd remark, Yuri yelled. Even when Yuuri skated, the blonde Russian could not help but shout at the man for so much as dropping a pencil in his presence.

An actual fight or argument would be brutal for both parties.

Victor reminded himself that the anger came from a good place this time. Yuri sulked in his chair because he was concerned about his girlfriend.

Better he was angry for this reason than any other.

* * *

Skate Canada Final Results:

 _Jean Jacques Leroy_

 _Otabek Altin_

 _Christophe Giacometti_

 _Jake Agreste_

 _Seung-gil Lee_

* * *

Normally, JJ would flash his traditional "JJ style" hand gesture non-stop and wink to the crowd. However, his smile appeared more forced as the cameras flashed while he climbed down from the podium. His broad shoulders lower than normal for a gold medalist, he trudged down the red carpet to the kiss-and-cry. He tried to keep his head up and salute his fans, but a small tugging at his heart made his eyes lower in worry. He tried to clap Otabek on the back in a show of solidarity, but the stoic Khazaki man shrugged him off as he headed towards Yuri on the other side of the rink.

JJ still felt like a black sheep infected with the plague around these skaters.

It was not for lack of trying. He toned down his flashy arrogance during his press interviews. He even said that his rivals were "formidable opponents." The old JJ would never dream of saying such a thing. He invited his fellow skaters to his favorite tavern in Windsor and even promised to pick up the tab. Still, nobody took him up on it. Isabella, his fiancee, huffed and puffed as she flew down to give him support. She was tiring fast of JJ and his antics, and he did not know the antidote.

At the kiss-and-cry, he took a few photos of his gold medal with his parents, but told them to put it in a suitcase.

"But you won, JJ," his mother said in a folksy accent. "You always wear your medals in public afterwards."

JJ flashed a small smile, hiding the troubling boil warming his chest. "Sorry, ma. I have to meet Isabella at Assumption Park. She's waiting for me."

His father, and old and portly man with a slight hunch, crossed his arms. "Son, are you planning on...y'know?"

"What?"

"Ending it?"

JJ frowned. "We're not breaking up. I just need to tell her something."

After giving his goodbye, JJ headed towards the exits in the back of the arena. As he jogged through the wide halls with renewed purpose, he whipped his phone out of his jacket pocket and looked down at the screen.

Still nothing from Isabel.

He thumbed a quick text to her, breathing in a quick rhythm from the brisk pace he took through the network of walkways and press tunnels.

 _Heading to the park. Hope everything is okay._

Like everyone else, JJ had not been in contact with Isabel since her and Yuri's date. After giving her advice on kissing him, she had ignored his texts and calls. JJ was worried that he had messed up yet another relationship. Did his suggestion not work? He noticed Yuri sitting by himself during his free skate performance. Did they have a big fight because of what he told Isabel to do? Did she blame him?

JJ wanted to beat himself with a jagged rock. He was on track to gaining a friend or two from his reinvention of himself. Now, he was closing to losing almost everyone that supported him. Even his fiancee.

Shaking his head, he reached back down to his phone. Better to be positive than pessimistic.

 _Even if Isabella decides to break up, thank u. You really helped me to be a different person._

* * *

Yuri had enough.

Standing in the parking lot, he looked at the time on his phone and crossed his arms. His foot tapped the pavement in his ink-black sneakers. The cold day bothered him zero as his impatience shook him down his spine.

He was tired of being out of the loop. He wanted to get to the bottom of this once and for all. That's what good boyfriends did, right? They found out what was wrong with their girlfriends and fixed it?

Yuri did not care about that. He just wanted to find out what was going on with Isabel. All of those secrets about her home life and why she never told him about it were too much for Yuri to handle. Those weird silences or awkward excuses about not going to her apartment or her dad letting her gallivant the world with an ice-skating stranger were not going to sit with Yuri any longer. So, the blonde Russian came up with a plan.

Clutching the yellow sticky note in his small hand, he read the crumpled address scrawled in crimson ink. The address Isabel gave him months ago turned out to be fake. So Otabek told Yuri to consult the phone book. Going through the list of all the Flynns in the Eight Mile area, Yuri finally heard Isabel's voice over the voicemail machine.

Yuri looked back up when he heard the roar of a motorcycle, the iron pistons beating in the engine. It slid to a stop in front of him. The black crotchrocket gleamed underneath the lights of the parking lot. A matching sidecar bolted onto a metal arm connecting it to the main motorcycle. A puff of smoke putted out of the silver exhaust pipe as the pedals turned into a parked position. The machine vibrated with urgency as a man in a leather suit pulled off his black helmet and smoothed down his short hair.

Yuri ran over to the motorcycle and leapt onto the back, wrapping his arms around Otabek's tough middle.

"You ready, Beka?"

The stoic man nodded as he turned the textured handles in front of him. "Cold out for a ride, but Eight Mile isn't that far."

Yuri nodded as Otabek reached into the sidecar and pulled out a pink helmet. Yuri shoved his head inside it without complaint. There were bigger issues than the color of a helmet.

Just as Otabek flipped the visor on the helmet down over his eyes, Yuri knocked on it with his knuckles.

"Don't forget who we have to pick up."

Otabek sighed. "I knew you wanted me to put a sidecar on for a reason."

He kicked the stand on the motorcycle back, allowing for the bike to zoom forward. They veered onto the street and rocketed away from the stadium.

Just as they left, Victor and Yuuri walked out of the stadium. Yuri was nowhere to be found.

* * *

The park was at the foot of the gigantic Ambassador Bridge. The flat, soggy grass covered the hard earth. It was a large park with a few concrete pathways for joggers and dog-walkers. However, the only things in the park on the cold day were the bare twigs on the dying shrubs at the edge of the sidewalks. A stray brown leaf flew and whistled in the gentle breeze as the waves lapped the stone edges of the riverfront. A lilac scent flowed into Isabella's nose as she leaned on the railing of the river. On the other side of the river, the lights of the Detroit skyline lit aflame. Car headlights blinked like fireflies zooming on a summer's night. The asian girl yanked on one end of her wool scarf to cover her mouth better. Her yellow jacket hung close to her body as she blinked away the cold air from her watering eyes.

"Isabella!"

She turned around and found JJ barreling towards her. Still in his black pants and red Canada jacket, his eyes were bloodshot with exertion while he heaved himself forward. His chiseled cheeks were painted with a red blush as his face paled from the cold whipping at his tan skin. His black hair, usually neat and gelled, stuck up in the wind as he reached the girl. He rested on his laurels, catching his breath as a bead of sweat dripped from the brow of his forehead.

"What the hell," Isabella asked in a shocked voice. "JJ, did you run from the arena? You look like a bear was chasing you!"

JJ reared back up to full height. He gasped for air, his shoulders rocking up and down.

"Cabs...too...expensive," he said in a strained whisper. "Uber...banned here."

"Really?" Isabella asked. "Uber is banned in Windsor? That's sucks. Wonder why they would do th-."

"Isabella?"

Isabella looked at the disheveled man. He slowed his breathing as his heart stop pummeling his chest from exertion. A soft, almost defeated look overcame JJ as he gazed deep into Isabella's eyes.

"JJ, what is it?"

JJ sniffled. "I don't have much time, but I want to ask you something. Just give me a straight answer."

Isabella tilted her head. Outside of JJ's breathing, only the sound of cars rumbling over the bridge and the waves kissing the stone wall on the river invaded their universe.

"What is it?"

JJ blinked with a fast rhythm a few times before he swallowed to clear his throat. He wanted this question to be out in the open.

"Do you not want to get married?"

Isabella blinked. "What?"

JJ took a step closer to her. Her warm breath hit his face, giving it a small reprieve from the cold.

"Listen, Isabella. You've been complaining to me for months about everything. I said we would get married after I won the Grand Prix Finals, and I haven't done it yet. You're going to get out of grad school in a few months, and I'm not stupid. I know I don't have forever left on the ice," He said in a soft voice.

Isabella was surprised at his words. All of his thoughts seemed very unlike the brash and over-confident man. "JJ, what are you getting at? It's too cold out here, so tell me what you mean. I'm freezing."

JJ sniffled again as his eyes reddened. Whether from the cold or from sadness, Isabella was unsure. "I didn't come here to apologize for anything I've done. I know I'm a good person, and even if people don't want to treat me as such, I know I'm good. I've done everything I can for you. When I come home, you're the only person I go to to hug and kiss hello. When I get a check, I make sure the first thing I buy is something for you at wherever the contest is that I'm at. I'm tired, Isabella."

JJ reached up and stroked a long finger down Isabella's soft cheek. Isabella flinched. It was both a loving and adamant touch.

"Tired of what?" Isabella asked.

JJ wiped away a small tear. "I'm tired of trying to please people who don't want me in their life. It's too much pressure on me. You want me to retire now and get a real career, but I don't want to think about that. You want kids, but I don't want to make that decision yet. You want me to do all of these things, but I can't, Isabella. I can't become a doctor or a lawyer or whoever your dad wants me to be. I can't just give you kids. I don't even know how to balance a freaking checkbook yet. I can't handle another human life right now."

JJ pulled his finger away and reached down to Isabella's hand. He grasped her small, fragile fist into his open palm. "I'm telling you this because I love you. That girl I met in Japan? Yuri's girlfriend? She says I wear my heart on my sleeve, and this is true. I'm not afraid to say that I love you, but I know when I'm not wanted anymore. And...and I don't...t-think you want me in your life anymore."

"JJ, I-."

"I can't give you everything you want, Isabella," JJ said as more tears streamed down his face. "But I will try with all of my heart. Yuri's girlfriend is named Isabel. She said that the reason you say those things and act this way is because you're afraid. You're afraid for me and our future. I wish that I could tell you everything is going to be perfect. God, I wish I could wave a magic wand and we could time travel to the future where we have three kids and live on a tropical island."

Isabella began to cry. "JJ, I d-didn't know my words...I didn't know they hurt so bad!"

JJ chuckled. "She told me that you would say that. So I'm going to give you a choice right now."

As soon as those words left his mouth, headlights popped up in the distance. A motorcycle rumbled to a halt by the sidewalk twenty feet behind JJ. The two occupants stood in place, waiting for the taller Canadian skater.

"I'm going with Yuri and Otabek to find out what's happening to her. We only met a few weeks ago, but she's really helped me understand things about my life. I love you, and I will for a very long time. That's why I'm going to give you this chance to leave. I'm going to Eight Mile with them to help Isabel with her problems. I think, in the big picture, they're worse than what we are dealing with right now."

JJ began to walk towards the motorcycle backwards. Still facing Isabella, he smiled. "I'll give you until Victor's birthday party tomorrow to decide. If you don't want me in your life anymore, I'm okay with that. I have others now that might help me. Now it's my turn to not be so selfish anymore and help a friend in need."

JJ turned and ran towards the motorcycle. He leapt into the sidecar is it veered onto the road, leaving an emotional Isabella standing in the park by herself.

As they crossed the Ambassador Bridge, the blinking lights on the tresses collided with the view of the Detroit skyline. It loomed closer as they crossed back into America. Zipping through the lanes on the bridge, Yuri looked to his side as JJ sat with his knees up to his chest in the small sidecar.

Yuri could not help but bark out a laugh. "You look so stupid crunched up in the sidecar like that."

JJ smiled. "At least I'm not wearing a pinky helmet with a Pinkie Pie sticker on it."

Yuri frowned. "Wait a minute. There's a sticker on this helmet?"

Yuri knocked on Otabek's helmet. "Beka, you idiot! Did you put a My Little Pony sticker on my helmet?"

Otabek could no remember the last time he laughed like he did on the Ambassador Bridge as Yuri yelled Russian obscenities in his ear; a jocular JJ joining in.

* * *

 **As always, make sure you leave reviews! They are important to me and they mean the world to me! Also, if you have any questions, I will answer them in my reviewer shout outs!**

 **Believe it or not, we are nearing the end very quickly. I think just three or four more chapters. Of course, the Grand Prix Finals will be the big finish, but who knows what will happen there?! Maybe Yuri will win big! Maybe he won't. I think it will be a happy ending, though. We will see soon enough.**

 **BTW, I decided to follow everyone else and make JJ's name without the periods. Not grammatically correct, but less jarring on the reader.**

 **Q of the day: If I make another Yuri On Ice Fic, should Isabel make a cameo? Based on the reviews, I have been led to believe that you all seem to like her enough. So I hope your not all lying!**

 **So what will Yuri, Beka, and JJ find when they get to her actual apartment? Why is she being non social? And how rude was Yuri when he made that comment about not talking?! I know some women who would kill a guy if they said that to them!**

Shout out time:

applejack456: Yuri is gonna have an uphill climb for the next month. We will see what happens. Maybe he is changing his program for both Nikolai and Isabel! And thank you for using my fic as a stress reliever. I think there is enough juicy humor and drama in this to be a guilty pleasure! Or maybe more than that.

bstarqueen: Always a great reviewer, thank you for sticking around and I hope you keep it here for the end! Don't worry, Isabel's problems will become very public soon!

StarlightNALU: Thank you so much for reviewing. I cherish every new and old voice I get, so this is phenomenal that I can attract people to this fic. Keep it up!

 **Thank you to all that review. Keep it up! Get others in on this story. Follow, favorite, fan-art, you name it! Anything is appreciated!. But most of all: review! We are currently the #1 reviewed non-AU English language fic on this site. Also, I believe we are the longest fic on this site for Yuri On Ice right now! I know it's early in the fandom's history, but that is still an achievement. Thank you so much! Tell all your friends!**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	31. Real Problems: Part 1

The neighborhood in Northern Detroit seemed so barren despite the amount of old buildings around the street. The grey tufts of grass poked out of the cracks on the rain-soaked sidewalk. The dim, tungsten streetlights faded in and out like the sounds of the helicopter zipping above the traveling motorcycle. Even the street itself appeared different than the more affluent downtown area. The broken concrete left potholes dotting the road.

The smell was less clean than the riverfront path Yuri had walked so many times. A thin, musty smog filled the air of the empty side street. Crumbling brownstones with broken windows stood as hollow shells of former homes. Gnarly and unkept weeds wafted back and forth in the still night as Otabek steered the motorcycle past them towards the apartment. Outside of the occasional police siren or chatting group of young men on the street corner, the area was as desolate as any rural countryside.

As they crawled to a stop at an empty intersection, Yuri squeezed Otabek's middle and reared up to his ear. "Just keep going, Beka."

Otabek frowned as he looked up at the stop sign invaded with black graffiti of some English word he did not know. To his left and right at the intersection, more low-lying buildings sat in disrepair. Another abandoned trailer lay forgotten on its side. On the other corner, a tiny convenience store with flashing neon signs promising alcohol stood with faded red paint sheering off the edges of the brick walls.

"It's a stop sign," Otabek said as he kicked his foot up and puttered forward.

"Just go past them. I don't want to stop in this neighborhood."

JJ, who remained hunched over in the sidecar wearing his trademark crimson Canada jacket, knocked on Yuri's helmet to grab his attention.

"You're a real local now, aren't you Yuri?" JJ said before letting out a chuckle.

Yuri sneered at the annoying Canadian. "Shut up. I've just learned a few things about this city."

After a few more minutes, the group arrived at their destination. The slim quadplex looked the same as most other buildings in the Eight Mile area. The brown bricks on the foundations were chipped by countless years of wear and tear. The uninviting staircase up to the front door had some form of dark mold growing on the hard steps. Windows reinforced with metal bars shielded the inside of the apartment with a cold, prison-like facade. Even the gutters, wet from the after-effects of rain, were dented and garnished with a thin film of rust.

Yuri shivered at the sight. Without even going in, he could tell this was no place for Isabel to live.

He popped off his helmet and placed it on the plush leather seat. Stretching his back, he smoothed down the blonde locks sticking up from the helmet hair he received.

"Stay here. I'll be back in a minute."

As he took a few steps onto the sidewalk, a large, warm hand grasped his thin wrists. With a whip of his head, Yuri saw JJ standing up in front of the sidecar they towed him in. A stern frown on his face, he shook his head while peering up at the apartment.

"I think I should go with you."

Yuri scoffed as he ripped his wrist from JJ's loose grip. "I think I can handle myself."

"Yuri, I don't want to sound like I'm making fun of you, but dude," JJ said. "You're barely five feet tall and thin as a rail."

Yuri glowered at JJ and crossed his arms. "I'm not five feet, moron. And I can take care of myself."

Otabek turned off the motorcycle and threw his helmet in the sidecar. Gripping the handles, he sat up straight as an iron board while watching the two argue. Over the past few days at Skate Canada, he had noticed quite a change in the people around him. Yuri did not lash out at others nearly as much as before. He appeared to be much quieter and less vocal than usual. He had heard that Yuri and Isabel had a bit of an argument, but Otabek figured Yuri would take it more personally than he should.

Meanwhile, JJ was becoming annoying in a different way. He tried way too hard to be super nice to everybody. He asked everybody how their trip to Windsor was and even wished them good luck on their routines. He made sure to shake hands with every participant and offered Otabek a bottle of water after his skate. With his fans, he appeared less brash and more humble, thanking them for being by his side. There was no self-aggrandizement. Just gratitude.

Couldn't just one person act normal today, Otabek thought as the two kept arguing.

"What if someone jumps you?" JJ asked.

"I'll fight them off."

"What if you can't?" JJ said with concern smothering his voice, something Otabek never thought he would hear from him about his rival. "What if it's like that movie where that blind guy kills those people that broke into his house?"

Yuri rolled his eyes. "Get over yourself, JJ. Stop being a white knight and acting like you're protecting me."

"He should go," Otabek said.

Yuri's face melted into one of worry as he shifted his gaze to Otabek. "Beka, you can't stay here by yourself. You'll get mugged."

JJ snickered. "Who's the white knight now?"

"Shut up."

Otabek cleared his throat. "Yura, I can handle myself out here. Just hurry up, get Isabel, and let's go."

Yuri contemplated. For as little as he trusted JJ, he had to be honest with himself. The taller, more muscled Canadian was probably more of an imposing figure on these streets than the small-framed Russian ice skater. If something did go wrong, he could at least run away while JJ was being stabbed in the stomach.

Yuri groaned. "We'll be out in five minutes."

* * *

Inside the building, the creaking wood on the staircase made Yuri worried he would crash through it and fall down to the ground. The narrow steps were a tightrope, and Yuri placed a ginger footstep on every inch of wood he could find. The shaking brown railing next to him provided no stability.

When Yuri and JJ made it to the second floor, they came across a mustard-yellow door. The chipped paint left brown splotches on the frame as the loose silver doorknob hung loosely in its hole. A blank orange doormat sat at the foot of the door. Yuri snatched the piece of paper in his jeans pocket. Matching the number of the apartment number, he dropped the paper and let it flutter to the dirt-coated wooden floor.

"This is it."

"How do we get in?"

Yuri sighed before reaching down underneath the doormat. He felt the floor surface before fingering a cool metal of a key. Grabbing the key, he stood back up and put it in the doorknob.

"How did you know the key was there?" JJ said in surprise.

Yuri rolled his eyes again. "I was poor once."

He opened the door. Seeing the darkness covering the room, Yuri felt for a switch on the thin sheetrock wall next to the door frame. Feeling a light switch, he flicked it up.

The apartment was exactly what Yuri expected, and yet he still cringed at the sight. The single room was tiny, with the bare white walls dimmed from years of dew leaving brown splotches. The low ceiling hovered over them with only a single loose lightbulb buzzing with electricity hanging like a menacing stalactite on a cavern. Only a small window with rusted metal bars allowed for a reprieve from the blank sides of the room; an overlook of the wide, empty street. To the left of Yuri, a small oven and stove with a short white refrigerator hummed next to a door which led to the bedroom. The odor of smoke invaded Yuri's nose. His eyes watered slightly before he took a cautious step into the apartment.

A ripped pleather sofa with faded blue fabric implanted itself on the thin wooden boards that creaked with every brush of wind that hit the building. A plastic table, probably used for eating, sat next to the couch. There was nothing else. No paintings dotted the scarred walls. No television whirred on a coffee table. It was a bare apartment with the bare essentials for existing.

"This place is a mess," JJ said.

Yuri clenched his fists. This apartment reminded him too much of his early years with his mother. Yet, Isabel came back here every night without complaint. He should have said something to her. He should have made her stay with him or go to a hotel or just anything to not be stuck in a place like this. She, of all the people Yuri knew, deserved better.

"Don't be rude, idiot," Yuri said.

"Since when do you care about being rude?"

Yuri huffed as he walked over the crumpled newspaper. Opening the door to the sole bedroom of the house, all that lay there was a twin-sized mattress with a thin gray duvet cover. No pillows. Tiptoeing into the room, Yuri bumped his hip on a short maroon nightstand. Looking down at it, he noticed only one picture sat on the top of it.

The picture was of a little girl with unmistakable royal blue eyes and longer golden hair. With a toothy smile, the girl was a ray of sunshine as she clung onto the shoulder of a burly, bearded man with salt-and-pepper hair growing on his heavyset frame. They stood in front of a gas station by a new station wagon, clearly on their way to a vacation of some sort.

"I can't believe she's been living in this for so long." JJ said from the other room.

Yuri looked up from the photo and turned to JJ. The taller man stood on the other side of the door frame. "She said that she's lived here for a while."

"She just seems so different, though. The way she acts, it's like she doesn't live in a place like this."

"Why?" Yuri asked. "Poor people can be nice, too."

"I mean, if I was in these conditions, I wouldn't be happy," JJ said as he looked inside the empty refrigerator. "She seemed so happy whenever I texted or talked to her. Does she act different around you?"

"Not really," Yuri said. "That's a good thing about her I guess. She's the same to everybody. She's not fake like most of the other people."

Yuri walked past JJ and looked down at the dining table. A stack of envelopes towered over the surface. Yuri, as curious as ever, decided to scan the envelopes for any clues. He reached down towards the paper and read the white mail carrier. Something about overdue bills.

"Other people?" JJ said as he looked at Yuri.

"Skaters," Yuri said as he leafed through the stack of mail. "Most of the other skaters are fake."

"Not me."

"Please," Yuri said with an eye roll. He fisted a crumpled sheet of paper and squeezed it in his grip. "You're faker than Christophe's eyelashes."

As JJ began to retort, Yuri bit his lip with every envelope he passed. Overdue bills. A few parking fines. Junk mail. Coupons for free tires at a garage. All this told Yuri was how Isabel ignored mail.

Then, Yuri's eyes grew in shock.

It was not an envelope, but a receipt. It hid to the side of the stack of mail, but Yuri saw the crumpled edge of the thin paper and yanked it out from the crushing envelope tower. He read the receipt, a slight gasp escaping his lips.

"St. John Macomb Hospital."

JJ snatched the receipt from Yuri's hands and zipped through its contents like a runner through a sprint.

"Okay, so what?"

"Look at the date, stupid."

JJ noticed the numbers on the top of the receipt, a proof of purchase for candy bar and a soda.

"It's from yesterday," Yuri said. "She's been at the hospital since yesterday."

JJ clutched his chest in a dramatic fashion. "Why would she be there? I thought she just had a cold."

Yuri slammed down his hand on the table, knocking a few envelopes into the ground. "She doesn't have a fucking cold, moron. She's been in the hospital because her dad is there. And this is the hospital she's at. She's been there this entire time."

JJ could not believe Yuri's words. He thought Isabel was just nervous or genuinely sick to miss out on seeing him and Yuri. He had no idea that her dad was the cause of this. JJ knew that Isabel did not live the best life in Detroit, but these recent developments were hard for him to stomach.

"What are we waiting for?" JJ suddenly shouted which caused Yuri to flinch. "We need to get there and help her!"

"Finally, you say something smart," Yuri said.

He shoved JJ forward, bushing past the small couch and exiting the apartment. Slamming the door shut, Yuri left the key underneath the mat as they barreled down the narrow staircase.

* * *

Once Otabek's motorcycle puttered to a halt, Yuri jumped out of his seat, leaving JJ and Otabek on the bike. He jogged past the parked ambulances on the street and slipped thought the automatic doors into the hospital. The emergency room was nearly empty. The white fluorescent tights bore down on the reflective tile Yuri trampled on. Nobody was in the waiting room, a surprise as he knew American hospitals had busy emergency rooms.

Taking in a deep breath, he reached the receptionist desk and smacked his hands on it. A rotund white woman with curly chestnut hair and a small double chin glared at Yuri for disturbing her peace. A television played underneath the desk as Yuri collected his thoughts.

"Do you know if an Isabel Flynn is here?" Yuri asked in a raggedy voice.

The fat woman tore her gaze from the soap opera she was watching to Yuri. The young Russian skater looked frazzled. His blonde hair messed up from the helmet while his hoodie looked frayed in certain seams on the white fabric.

"Are you family?"

"No, but I'm he-."

"If you're not family, you have to come during visiting hours."

"Don't interrupt me, bitch," Yuri shouted. "Is she here or not?"

The nurse shook her head and picked up a red rotary phone. "Sir, I will call security if you can't behave."

Just as Yuri was about to hurl a torrent of Russian insults at the lazy nurse, he heard a familiar voice cry out from outside.

Yuri spun around on his heels and looked out the glass doors. JJ had his thick arms around around somebody who appeared to be struggling in his grasp. A bob of blonde hair.

Yuri shot forward like a fired bullet through the small emergency room. When the doors opened for him, the cold air smacked his face as he charged towards Otabek's motorcycle. As he neared, he heard more arguing as JJ tried to keep her at bay in his grasp. Otabek had a blank expression on his face, choosing to remain on his motorcycle.

Yuri halted himself behind her as she pushed on JJ's chest.

"I'm not going anywhere," she shouted. "Let me go."

She wrestled herself from the bear hug before turning around. Just as she began to run, Isabel smacked herself into Yuri. He grunted as the girl struggled to stay on her feet. Balancing on her scuffed sneakers, she stood up straight and realized the people in front of her..

Isabel looked liked she had not slept in days. Pale grey circled etched underneath her eyes, shockingly dull and void of their usual sparks of energy. The thin dark sweater, a few sizes too large for the skinny girl, appeared worn and ripped in certain areas. Isabel's hair, usually neatly cropped in a smooth pixie cut, hung lifeless from her head in a mishmash of stray strands. Her pale face seemed to lose any color it had left when she stared at Yuri.

She could tell by the deep frown on his face that the jig was up. The past few months of sneaking around behind Yuri and hiding her issues were gone.

"Uh...hey Yuri," Isabel said with a fake smile. "Just jogging through the neighborhood. Nice night for it."

Yuri lifted up a receipt for the hospital in his hand. "What's this?"

"Oh," Isabel said. Her eyes frantically looking around for an escape. With the three men around her, the options became limited. "My dad...just had...he needed a flu shot, but he had a bad reaction. I'm here for moral supp-."

"Stop the bullshit," Yuri shouted. "You're lying to me. Now tell me what the fuck is going on!"

Isabel winced as Yuri's voice cut through her quickly crumbling facade. She barked out a nervous laugh. "But, why would I lie to you Yuri? Why would I lie to someone like you?"

Yuri raised an eyebrow, the odd words swirling in his head. "Someone like me?"

"Why would make things up about myself?" Isabel said as she burst out with another round of laughter. "Why would I lie to someone as rich and famous as you?"

Yuri took a step forward. There was no reason for Isabel to be laughing right now. It appeared to be a defense mechanism for her, but what she was saying concerned him the most. His fame had never been a topic for conversation before.

"Rich and famous?" Yuri asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"There's no reason for me to lie to you, Yuri," she said, a maniacal glint shining in her eyes as her voice broke further. "I wouldn't lie to you about being here for a drug overdose."

Yuri gasped at Isabel, who's muscles began to wobble from anxiety. Drug overdose? Is that why she was here? Her father had a drug overdose?

JJ's eyes were as wide as the double door entrance to the hospital. He realized that they were watching Isabel have nothing short of a complete nervous breakdown. Even Otabek, as stoic and calm as he was, seemed worried for the girl's mental health as he sat on his motorcycle.

"A what?" Yuri asked in a softer tone.

"My dad having a drug overdose," Isabel said, emitting another shaky laugh. "It's not like I would try and keep that a secret from you."

"So you're here because your da-."

"Tons of heroine," Isabel said. She coughed out another dark laugh. "So much of it. He just decided to do it, but why would I lie about being in a family of drug addicts? That makes no sense, right?"

"Isabe-." JJ started.

"Or me not being able to eat for days because he spent all of our money for the month on it!" Isabel cut JJ off with a high-pitched interruption.

Yuri reached a hand out in slow-motion, as if she was a cat that would lash out with any sudden movements. "Have you eaten anything? Maybe we sho-."

Another laugh bubbled from her chest. "All the money I needed for food and paying the electric bill is gone now. Why would I lie about that? That's funny, Yurio! Everyone says how funny I am, so don't you think so?"

"Izzy," Yuri said, hoping that the nickname would shake her from her stressed state. "You're scaring me."

Isabel laughed again. "And you know what the best part is? Outside of not even being able to afford the bus anymore? Or not being able to go to school now? Or not even having a dad that can function properly and stop me from being homeless?"

"Isabel, it's okay," JJ said. "We can help."

"You know what's really hilarious?" Isabel said. At this point, the girl was completely cracked. Her face all but ghostly with an ivory pale; the color vanishing from her cheeks. The silent tears rolled from her eyes as her body began to shake harder. Her legs had the strength of noodles as a chill grew on her spine. She was doing everything she could to not break down, to keep the front of the bubbly, positive blonde that found life so enjoyable.

With every breath, Yuri felt his own heart begin to shatter. He never saw a person so shattered in his entire life. Even the worst collapses and defeats at skating contests were dwarfed by the girl that was collapsing under her own weight.

"Isabel." Yuri said as he took a step forward towards her.

A laugh. This time louder than before.

"I...I don't even have the money to pay back this hospital," Isabel said.

She fell to her knees on the immaculate tile floor, her fists clenched by her side. Her blonde hair falling over her face as the bursts of unhinged laughter escaped from her mouth. "Isn't that funny, Yurio? Ha-How I can't even afford the bus anymore? Ha ha. And now my only family member is in the hospital for a drug overdose and he may never come out of his coma? How-ha ha-hilarious is that?"

More tears streamed down her face as she looked up at him. Her bloodshot eyes meeting his shocked emerald ones.

"Isn't it funny how I thought having you as a boyfriend would fix things for me?"

Yuri needed no prodding. He couldn't take the image of this girl destroying herself any longer. He knew words would do nothing, especially words from him. He problems ran deeper than he thought, deeper than any of the problems he encountered with other people in his life.

Besides, if there was one thing he learned from skating, it was that actions spoke louder than words.

"Isabel."

He sprung forward and slid onto his knees. With a small clash, he wrapped his arms around her middle and moored his body onto hers.

He hugged her. His head nestled next to hers, Yuri felt her clammy skin on his warm cheek as he took a hand and placed it on the back of her head. When she felt his touch, Isabel wasted no time in taking her limp arms and enveloping Yuri into an embrace of her own. Her shoulders still rocked from the escaping manic laughter that jolted her in his swaddling. It was a hug that erased the chilled air resting on the Detroit night, a clear black sky hanging overhead that showcased the stars hidden from Yuri's usual view in Downtown.

Yuri always thought, no, knew that her problems ran deeper than she let on. The recent avoidances. The coyness she had when discussing herself. The fact that her father was never around and let her go halfway around the world with him. These were the problems she was hiding, problems much bigger than his or JJ's or Otabek's or any other skaters.

Real problems. The worst part was that he could relate to them.

He had no idea how long they stayed there. The girl cried into his shoulder, sadness-induced laughter rocking her being. JJ kneeled down and stroked her hair, saying how everything would be alright. Otabek announced that he would park the motorcycle and run into the hospital to get them some coffee.

There were no whispers of sweet nothings or promises of good fortune from him. All the scene entailed was Yuri Plisetsky, a loner, sarcastic Ice skater from Russia who did not dream he would care for anyone like her in a million years, comforting his girlfriend.

* * *

 **Make sure to keep reviewing, keep spreading the word about this story. You all give me the motivation and drive to make something entertaining. Without you, my dear readers, there would be no reason to advance!**

 **So the secrets are kind of out now! We all knew Isabel came from a less-than-stellar place, but the extent of these problems: a horrible father, a horrible apartment, money issues, possible abuse. These aren't things people expected from her.**

 **There will be a full explanation in the next chapter. I kind of consider this and the next chapter (Victor's birthday party) to be the emotional climax of this story. We only have that and the real climax, the Grand Prix Final, before I put those famous two words on this story.**

 **So how are you all feeling? Did I convey the breakdown well without being to over-the-top? I think that's why I waited so long for this kind of stuff. it would have been really heavy handed to have a sad, depressed girl wax about her problems and Yurio suddenly care about her. Very boring and cliched!**

 **I'd like to think the breakdown was very in character for Isabel, though. When Yurio broke down, his dominant emotion conveyed by him was anger at the world for taking away his grandfather. With Isabel, her way of breaking down was inappropriate laughter about things that are not funny. I think that's in character for this bubbly blonde you have all grown to know (and maybe, hopefully love?).**

 **Shout out time:**

erzatscarlett: Don't worry about it! There are a lot of good writers to sample, and so little time! Although i would love if you could keep reviewing until the end. We re almost there, and I am glad I could have a reviewer who was there from the beginning!

theflyingpenguin: Thank you so much. I'm glad I can keep and retain great readers, and I hope you stick around! I am very proud that my OC has gotten such a pleasant reception, and I would love if she had a small bit in my next piece.

bstarqueen: Very sad that our time for this story is ending, but there are many more in the future! I hope the character progression of not just Yuri and JJ, but everybody involved is seen by the end of this fic. At the beginning, Yurio probably would care little and certainly not hug Isabel for being sad. Now, however, he's doing everything he can. That's character development in a nutshell!

 **Thank you so much. You can feel the end is near, and it will be a satisfying one. I kind of look at this fic as a "what if I wrote a season 2 of YOI," so maybe that's why there are story arcs and a wide array of characters. I hope I'm even in the same universe as far as quality writing goes as the YOI writers.**

 **See you soon!**


	32. Real Problems: Part 2

"Now spill."

"Don't threaten her," Victor said.

"I don't care," Yuri said as he shifted in his seat with a dark glare pointed at Isabel. "I've been here all day. So spill."

The past twenty hours skated by Yuri. He and Isabel exchanged few words as they sat in the hospital waiting room. Isabel had slobbered on Yuri's shoulder as she dozed the day away in the rigid plastic chairs. Otabek, being a responsible adult, called Yuuri to let him know of their whereabouts as the moon rose to the top of the sky.

When Victor found out, he wanted to drop everything and race over to Northern Detroit. Yuuri calmed him down and assured the worried Russian that Otabek would watch over them. Victor barely had any sleep, worried about Yuri being at a hospital in the rough part of town. When Yuri disappeared from the ice rink in Windsor, he had no idea where the small blonde had run off to. At first, he was frustrated because he was going to miss out on his birthday party the next day.

However, when he learned about the serious news concerning Isabel's father, he felt a wave of sadness come over him. Victor had never dealt with him, but he learned from eavesdropping on a few of Yuri's conversations that she did not have the best home life. If anything bad happened to her, it hit him hard.

After waking up, Victor called Christophe and asked him to handle the arrangements for the birthday party later in the day. Grabbing a hesitant Yuuri, he raced down Eight Mile Road, almost hitting multiple cars and curbs as they lurched to a halt in the parking lot.

He ran in and searched for the two, finding them in the waiting room. After asking about Isabel's health, Yuri yelled about him shouting in the hospital. Yuuri caught up, surprised at finding Otabek and JJ also being at the hospital. He asked Otabek about what was happening. At that point, JJ took it upon himself to find an empty break room.

The group sat down at a white square table. A mini fridge hummed behind Isabel as the fan rocked above them on the ceiling. Without any windows, the room was a prison cell, and Isabel was interrogated by the five men sitting opposite her, only a cup of coffee steaming in between her and the group. Yuri sat directly in front of her while Victor and Yuuri sat together on the left. JJ stood on Yuri's other side, an almost pitiful expression as he stared at her. Otabek leaned on the wall by the wooden door, the blinds closed on the window.

"Go ahead," JJ said. "We won't judge."

Isabel took a deep breath. She hoped JJ was correct.

"My mom and dad divorced when I was five," Isabel began. "I already told Yuri that, but now you all know. We used to be very rich. Mom was some sort of lawyer. My dad did something with cars at one of the big plants. We lived in a nice house with blue shutters and shrubs all around the yard. I remember thinking of it like a castle. This was my castle, and my mom and dad were like the people that protected the queen. The knights."

Isabel hung her head, focusing on the swirling cappuccino swimming in the porcelain mug in front of her. She ran her finger down the side. The hot ceramic warmed her hand as she rubbed the curb.

"Then what?" Yuri asked, his face softening as he saw Isabel's dejected face.

"She left."

"Just like that?"

Without looking up, Isabel sighed. "I don't know. Sometimes people just don't want you anymore."

The entire group remained silent for a few seconds. Only quiet beeping and tapping footsteps from the busy hospital hallway broke the silence.

"So after that," Isabel said, looking back up at the men in front of her. "She left me with my dad, and I haven't seen her since. She kicked us out of the house. For the next few years, we lived in a decent apartment in Dearborn. It was a little far away from Downtown, but we managed. We lived above a big deli, so I always went down and got free stuff from them. That's where I learned to love cooking, I guess."

Isabel choked out a chuckle. "I couldn't tell the difference between sashimi and salami back then."

Victor reached down and grabbed Yuuri's hand. The Japanese man, entranced by these revelations, did not flinch as he interlocked his fingers in Victor's as a sign of support.

"Keep going, Isabel," Yuuri said. "We want to know."

Isabel drew in another breath. "A few years ago, my dad lost his job at the plant. All the car plants were shutting down around then. We had to move to a smaller apartment in Eight Mile, and my dad's been at some small garage ever since. He's became harder to deal with by the day. First it was him forgetting to pick me up or take me somewhere. Then, he started to get defensive and yell about how I was being a burden to him. He drank a lot more."

"Drank?" Victor asked.

"Alcohol," Isabel replied. "But not like you skaters do. He's an angry drunk."

Yuri frowned, his face contorting into fury as his brow furrowed. His eyes slanted as he leaned forward on the table from his seat. "Izzy, I want you to tell me right now if that man has done anything to you."

Victor landed a gentle palm on Yuri's shoulder. "Let her finish."

Yuri gritted his teeth. "If that man put one fingernail on you, I guarantee he is not leaving this fucking hospital," he nearly shouted.

Isabel shook her head. "Never that far. He threw things, but it was mostly to scare me. I think he knew he couldn't get away with leaving bruises or marks at my school."

Yuri seethed as he listened to her. Just the casual way she put these events angered him to no end. She was saying all of this as if she was describing the weather for the day. This was not right, and for a girl like Isabel, no one should be allowed to even look at her wrong, let alone give nothing but abuse or neglect.

Just as Yuri began to shoot up onto his feet, Otabek reached over from his spot leaning on the wall to grasp Yuri's other shoulder. Yuri locked his gaze towards Otabek. His calm, charcoal eyes stared back into furious, raging pools of emerald and indigo. The two skaters looked at each other with no words between them. Yuuri kept his hand clenched with Victor's as the grey-haired man tried to keep Yuri from sprinting towards the door. JJ, who was now the closest to the door, hovered in front of it like a security guard, worried that Yuri would make a hasty decision.

However, looking into Otabek's placid eyes appeared to be assurance enough. Yuri ceased his struggle and dumped himself onto the seat. Brushing the blonde hair from his eyesight, he glowered back at Isabel.

"What about the past few years or so?" Yuuri asked. "Has this been the case for that long?"

Isabel nodded, her dull eyes shifting around to every man in the room. "It's mostly been him yelling about how I spent too long in the bathroom. I didn't know he was on drugs until last year when I found some in the fridge. When I told him, he shouted about me being an..."

Isabel swallowed as her eyes began to glaze over with saline.

"Inconvenience?" JJ finished.

Isabel let out a sad chuckle. "Not the word he used, but that sums it up. Maybe that's why we get along, JJ. We both know what that feeling is like."

Victor raised an eyebrow as he turned towards JJ's larger frame by the corner. JJ wore a small smile as he reached down and patted Isabel's head. Victor almost laughed, the scene looking ridiculous to any random passerby. No doubt Yuri would stab JJ for having any physical contact with Isabel in any other situation. However, Victor had no idea what the two were going on about. Did JJ, the pompous and arrogant skater, have problems as well? The whole connection was just very bizarre.

Yuri lost any remaining patience. "Can we get to what happened this week?" He asked in a rushed tone.

Isabel smiled at Yuri, a tear or two threatening to fall as lower lip trembled. "It's just that...he's ignored me the entire year. He doesn't want to t-talk to me. He never says my name. He can't even look at me anymore. The only time he acknowledges m-my existence is for the alimony paperwork. And he blows that money...on drugs. I could only stay in school because of the voucher program they have in the city, so I kept going to Downtown. N-nobody wanted to help me or know h-how I was d-doing. And this past week, h-he went too far. Failed a drug test at work. Lost his job. He binged, and I-I was s-so worried. And I've been hiding it for so long."

Isabel sniffled as she let out another terse laugh. She squeezed her hands together, as if she was holding something in front of her chest. "I t-try so hard to be bright and optimistic and happy, and I am... But this past year...I'm tired. I'm tired of being hungry and trying to be happy and not getting anything back from life in return. Nobody wanting to really be my friend. Nobody calling to see if I was alright. N-nobody even said ha-happy birthday to me last year."

Yuri could not take it anymore. He stood up, smacking Victor's hand as he tried to keep him under control. However, Yuri did not rush towards the door to receive justice for Isabel's pain. Instead, he jostled his way around the table to Isabel's end. Stooping down to her seated figure, he enveloped Isabel into a surprise hug.

Victor could not help the small grin that formed on his face. Seeing Yuri so open and caring for a real human being made him happy. Even if Isabel was hiding so much loneliness, he saw something special between them as Isabel threw her arms around Yuri's shoulders to return the hug. They really did help each other. The way Yuri held her. The way Isabel seemed to become a form of jelly as she melted into the embrace. The way her cries stopped as they comforted one another. For two seventeen-year-olds, they already acted years ahead of their age. They both had already been through so much.

Not only could Isabel go through that, but hide it and appear to be the happiest, peppiest person in the world was astonishing.

Frankly, she reminded him of himself in that way.

* * *

"About forty thousand?" Victor asked.

Outside of the break room, Yuuri and Victor stood at the reception desk. The large nurse typed away on her computer as Victor fingered the wallet in his long khaki pants. Yuri remained inside the room with Isabel while JJ tried to cheer her up with some distractive conversations. Otabek decided it was best for him to leave. Hopping on his motorcycle, he puttered away, promising to check up on them at the party later that day.

The nurse nodded. "Roughly. It's still difficult considering she has no insurance, but that's the estimate."

"Done," Victor said. "We're paying for everything."

Yuuri gasped as he turned to his fiancee a bespectacled look. "Victor, wait a sec-."

"No, Yuuri," Victor said. His eyes narrowing in a determined, almost angry way that Yuuri had rarely seen before. "I know I've had issues with overspending, but this is not something I am backing off on. We are paying for Isabel's hospital fees. End of story."

Yuuri excused him and Victor from the nurse before taking his arm. Ushering Victor forward, they marched into a stairwell and closed the door. With no one around but the stone steps of the staircase, Yuuri adjusted his glasses and let go of Victor.

"Victor," Yuuri said with small echo reverberating in the narrow stairwell. "I want to help her, too. But let's talk about this."

"Nothing to talk about," Victor said. He shook his head and blinked with a rapid rhythm, staving away tears. "Yuuri, can I ask you something?"

Yuuri paused and considered the flustered man in front of him.

"Yes?"

"Did you ever stop and realize how lucky we are?"

"What?"

"Us. JJ. Otabek. We came from worlds of privilege," Victor said. "My eyes have been opened, Yuuri. I never had to worry about half the things that go through that girl's head. Nobody her age should have to go through this. And look at us! The biggest problems in our lives are winning some skating competition or breaking a record that will be beaten in a year or so. Not winning the Grand Prix Finals? Messing up during a short program? Those aren't real problems, Yuuri. And you know what really sucks? Stories like this happen all the time. There are people who are going to spend their whole lives stuck in places like those and dealing with things like this. No, Yuuri. The problems Isabel and Yurio have gone through; these are real problems."

Yuuri analyzed Victor's words. For as confident as Victor appeared to be, he was becoming more and more aware about how atypical his life was. Yuuri blamed it on the town. Detroit had a side of poverty and neglect that Victor was unaccustomed to. Now, with Isabel in such dire straights, the reality check was banging him on the head like a rubber mallet.

"Victor," Yuuri said in a gentle tone. "Don't become all guilty on me. It's not your fault that she is in this situation. It's not your fault that you have a lot of money. Don't feel bad because you had things easier through life. People are just given the cards they are dealt with. You were given a great hand. I was given an okay one."

Yuuri took another breath and pointed at the exit door. "But that girl with Yurio in the other room," he whispered. "That girl has had it rough. But we can fix it. I want to pay off the bills, too."

"You do?"

"Yes," Yuuri said with a sly smile. "All of those endorsements and appearances you do pay off. We can make this right for her. She's done so much for Yurio and making our lives more bearable in that apartment. Besides, even if we didn't pay them, Yuri or JJ would probably dig into their bank accounts the moment they leave here today."

Victor sniffled as he leaned on the cool grey bricks behind him. "It's not fair, Yuuri. That girl deserves the good life. All of the money, trips, food, and fame we have? She deserves it a lot more than any of us."

"So let's give her the good life," Yuuri said. "And let's start by doing this for her."

Victor chuckled. "It is Christmas, after all."

* * *

After picking them up from the hospital, Victor drove them all down to the Greektown Casino, where Victor's birthday party was held. Despite their frumpy clothing, there was no time for them to change, but Victor did not care about image for once.

When they walked in, almost the entire skating world shouted out their greetings with a deafening rendition of "Happy Birthday." Victor cut a cake, which was placed next to a life-sized ice sculpture of himself. He refused to tell anybody where he had been the whole day. All he said was that he was tired and was searching for the perfect Christmas gift for Yuuri.

The party went into full swing after that. Mila, who had flown in from Russia, annoyed Yuri by lifting him up in the air just like their times as old rinkmates. Georgi, who had another girlfriend on his arm, congratulated Yuri on finding true love, which illicit an eye roll from the shorter Russian skater. Otabek, in a brown tuxedo, asked Yuri if everything was okay, to which Isabel put on a goofy smile and shouted that they felt great. After letting out her secrets and feelings, she appeared much happier than usual.

The large ballroom also had a big dance floor and long white tables with almost every food imaginable to keep the different cultures at the party happy. JJ tried desperately to get Isabel to taste his homemade poutine, but Yuri smacked it away before he could poison her.

Speaking of which, JJ and Isabella appeared to be on better terms. They smiled and kissed each other when she came to the party. Apparently, there had been a tearful plea for them to not break up on Isabella's part, so JJ decided to keep the engagement safe. Isabel finally met her, joking about how she was getting married to a giant, emotional marshmallow. JJ took mock offense to the comment, firing back that Isabel was dating the biggest marshmallow in the room in Yuri.

It was Yuuri's eight flight of rum and cola that made things more interesting. He challenged Christophe to a "strip-off" to see who could be the best stripper. Victor was the judge of course. Phichit took many an incriminating photo as Michele Crispino yelled at Emil for supposedly flirting with his sister for the hundredth time. Even the waiters and security guards for the ostentatious gathering joined in with a game of pin-the-tail-on-the-Seung-gil. The Korean man was unamused as partygoers chased him around the room.

When JJ and Isabella got up on the stage at the back of the ballroom and began a karaoke version of "Just What I needed" by the Cars, Isabel noticed Yuri was gone. Excusing herself from an engrossing conversation about massage therapy techniques from Georgi, she walked out of the building.

Having a hunch, Isabel walked towards a big concrete lot in front of the casino. Yuri liked to walk and stand around water when he tried to avoid people.

Sure enough, Yuri stood in front of the large, marble fountain spouting out water from a statue of a guitar. The water jetted out of the top of the bronze instrument as colored light filters made the shimmering water flow in a rainbow basin. The different colors made the water meld into different sections of brilliant, bright liquid glass. Gushing water splattered onto the surface, spraying small droplets with every flowing stream that connected with the reservoir pooled underneath.

Isabel walked up to Yuri, a grin on her face as she noticed his placid face. His hands shoved into his hoodie pockets, he stared at the rainbow of water glistening underneath the clear night sky of the city. The cold did little to bother him as he contemplated about something.

"You should be at the party," Isabel said. "Mister Katsuki is already drunk. He's giving a lap dance to the ice sculpture of Victor."

"I needed air." Yuri said without moving.

Isabel stood beside Yuri, staring down at the water in the basin. "I didn't mean to get all 'angsty teen girl' on you today."

Yuri peeled his eyes away from the gorgeous kaleidoscope of water and turned to Isabel. "No, it's okay. You have a lot of stress. You need to let it out sometimes."

"You're beginning to sound like me when I first met you."

"It finally happened. You're beginning to grow on me," Yuri said with a small smirk.

"Yuri?"

Yuri sighed. "What is it? I was enjoying the silence. That party is getting to rowdy."

Isabel scratched the back of her neck. Here goes nothing, she thought.

"I don't want anything to change between us," Isabel said. "I know you learned a lot, and I promise not to hold back my life as much anymore. I guess I was worried you wouldn't want to deal with me if I had so much baggage."

"Please," Yuri rolled his yes. "To be a professional ice skater, you need baggage. Just remember that no matter how messed up you feel, you're still not as messed up as Georgi's love life."

"I've been told he's a trainwreck."

"That's practically a compliment."

"I'm serious, Yuri," Isabel said. "I know I said a lot of stuff, but...ugh. I don't know how to say this." Isabel said, rubbing her forehead in contemplation.

"Just say what you have to say. I need to head back in soon. Too cold." Yuri said, twitching slightly as he had a flash back to when he first asked Isabel out. She said similar words in that Orlando airport.

"I don't know how long we're going to be boyfriend and girlfriend," Isabel said. "I'm not stupid. The whole high-school sweethearts thing is only for dumb romance novels. And you athletes hop around to different partners like every week. I don't know if we're going to be together next year or five years from now. But I want you to know that, no matter what happens in the future, I feel like my life is more complete now."

"Complete?"

"I know that's a stupid thing to say at seventeen," Isabel said. "But I don't care. Because even if I'm never a world-famous chef or make a lot of money or do anything valuable on this planet ever again, it's okay. I can live without being rich and famous and making an impact. Because at the end of the day, I can say that I accomplished at least one thing in my life."

"What is that?"

"My dream," Isabel said with a wide smile. "My dream that I'd meet someone like you."

Yuri felt the air race out of his lungs as the words punched him in the gut. The words and the way she said them, as if they were the most important secret of the universe walloped him like falling on the ice after a bad jump. Just three months ago, he would never have dreamed about this girl for one second. He would never imagine greeting her in the school hallways or eating with her on the rooftop. He would never dare to think about taking her back to his apartment and spilling his guts about his anxieties in a new city. He would not have joked with her or laughed with her or make fun of Victor and Yuuri's stupid flirting together. They would never have had their own inside jokes or trade good-natured barbs like they had known each other for years. Yuri certainly would never have thought about holding her as she cried, and her doing the same when he broke down.

It was as close to an "I love you" as Yuri ever heard. The sudden warmth in his chest made his heart wrench with pain, but a good pain. It hurt so good as he looked into the beautiful blonde's sparkling cerulean eyes, shining from the pallor of the ivory streetlights above them. The newborn smile, radiant and genuine, wouldn't come off his face a great weight flew off his back. His life had changed moving to Detroit, and his family had changed with the addition of Victor, Yuuri, and her.

However, for the first time in his life, Yuri realized he may have just changed as a human being. A person who wouldn't be as brash or rude to others. A person who would be grateful for every annoying joke and obnoxious habit showcased in his new family. A person who was happy to be alive in this beautiful city called Detroit living with the best coaches he could ask for.

Alive with the only person that could literally take his breath away.

As Yuri licked his dried lips, his tongue absorbed a salt-laden drop of saline. Reaching up to his cheek, he felt the tears rolling down his face.

"Damn it, Izzy," Yuri said with a shiver. "You're making me cry now."

Isabel giggled while taking a step forward, the couple's noses almost touching. "You look cute crying."

"But it's not even sad crying," Yuri said as he wiped his face. "It's happy crying. That's the most embarrassing one."

"It's okay, Kitty. You're allowed to cry in front of me."

Yuri chuckled as he smeared away the remnants of liquid on his cold face. "Is that your new nickname for me? Kitty?"

Isabel grinned. "It fits well. Besides, Victor and Mister Katsuki call you 'Yurio.' Otabek has 'Yura.' JJ calls you 'Yuri-chan.' So I'm giving you a nickname."

Yuri scoffed in mock frustration. "Fine. Then I'll just keep calling you by your nickname."

Isabel shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Fine, Izzy."

"Alright, Kitty."

They both chuckled briefly, the wind swirling softly as it caressed their faces.

When they stopped, both of them froze in place. Feeling her warm breath on his lips, Yuri narrowed his eyes. She was just an inch away from him. A tilt of his head, and the kiss would be leaned forward with the caution of a jewel thief in a museum. His thin arms snaking their way around Isabel's thin frame.

Isabel smiled, feeling the jitters rumbling in her as she closed her eyes.

It seemed like an eternity, but Yuri placed his hands on the back of Isabel's neck.

Their lips met.

Isabel melted into the kiss like chocolate resting by a fireplace. With their plush lips pressed together, Isabel pressed her hand on Yuri's cheek as they continued to kiss. The cold air disappeared like the mist rising from the fountain as they only felt the rush of adrenaline coursing through their veins. The kiss was alcohol, and the young couple were becoming more intoxicated by the second. Isabel detected a peppermint flavor from his lips, as Yuri continued to smack his lips onto hers. Yuri could not help himself. He felt a dam burst inside him, and his head lost feeling as he became addicted to the sweet taste of her kiss.

"Yuri, stop!"

So much so, that Isabel had no choice but to push Yuri back.

Yuri heaved for air as he realized his lungs were starving for oxygen. Likewise, Isabel drew in deep pockets of air, white fog billowing out of every fast exhale.

"Wh-what's...the matter?" Yuri asked, worried that he went to far.

"I just," Isabel stammered as she tried to breath. "I just needed air. You were kissing me too long."

Regaining his composure, Yuri blinked, trying to comprehend her words. He, Yuri Plisetsky, kissing this girl from Detroit too long. That was a problem he never thought he would have.

Before he knew it, he started to laugh. It was a sweet, melodic laugh. He released the kind of laughter that lifted every muscle of his body into heaven, releasing the tension tightening his nerves for the past few days. In fact, the tears almost flowed again from how hard he laughed into the frigid night.

Isabel joined in.

 _Finally_ , she thought, _he's getting a sense of humor._

* * *

 **So, did what you expect to happen finally happen?**

 **I guess this is sort of the emotional climax of the story. We only have 2 chapter or so left. The grand prix final and the epilogue. It's gonna be a very satisfying finish.**

 **But what do you think?! Happy they finally did this? Did you expect the backstory? What about Yuuri and Victor paying those bills? Great Christmas present, huh? Wish that happened more in real life. How was the dialogue? Is this plot moving fast enough even if we are almost at the end? Did you feel any emotion at all? Are Yuri and Isabel a good couple? Review and tell me anything whether it's a criticism or suggestion.**

 **Also, how bout dat kiss? Did you enjoy that finally happening? Apparently, it was a good one, if it made the participants nearly suffocate.**

 **Shout out time:**

erzatscarlett: I hope I have your attention until the end, you are one of my most dedicated reviewers! Thank you for staying on this ride until the end.

StralightNALU: Thank you so much to you and your sister. I tried to make an OC that was enjoyable to witness but also appeared relatable and real. I hope I'm doing well.

theflyingpenguin: What a compliment to say that I develop my characters realistically. Thank you so much! I have strived really hard to make a realistic character progression for the characters. That's why it took 32 chapters to find out what's been going on with Isabel. For people with enough patience to read through like yourself, I hope they recognize the same thing. I didn't want to go from meeting to falling in love. We all want to see a kiss and happily-ever-after, but even those take time.

 **As always, leave a review or a comment. Those are crucial to me. I want to make an entertaining story for you, and I cherish every review I get. Tell your friends to do the same. Also, favorite and follow if you can as well.**

 **I truly do this for you, as without my amazing readers, there would be no reason to continue. You give me the motivation to keep on writing through the night and give you something worth remembering.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	33. Grand Prix Finals: Short

Slash.

A thud.

With a nick of his toe pick, Yuri grated his face on the rough ice. Skidding like a flat skipping stone over a brook, he rolled over, the world melding into a hodgepodge of blurred color before noticing the white surface.

His body came to a halt just inches from the rink wall. Panting, his breath fogged his ragged face's reflection with every exhale.

"Not enough on the quads, Yurio?" A mocking voice sang above him.

Yuri peered up at Victor, who had his arms crossed in a smug expression over his cinnamon trenchcoat.

This drubbing at the ice became Yuri's routine for the past month. After Victor's birthday party, Yuri buckled down and went hard at work to change his free and short programs. With over a month to prepare for the last step in the Grand Prix series, he was spending about eight hours a day at the rink and more at ballet lessons to nail the choreography. When he wasn't throwing himself on the ice, Yuri did more to condition himself for the final push to the Grand Prix finals. He enrolled himself into self-defense classes at a gym downtown to raise his stamina (although Yuri admitted to himself that, after going to Isabel's neighborhood, he could stand to gain some muscle to ward off muggers).

In fact, Yuri had become more and more well known in the area. At first, he began to jog around the city. Starting at his apartment, he crossed down to the riverfront and followed the wide path past the naked branches of summer trees towards the Renaissance Center. After going past the cylindrical structure, he circled around Bricktown, huffing as he pushed himself to run longer with every morning jog.

During one of his jogs, one of his classmates named George saw the shorter Russian skater jogging down the sidewalk. As he drained a cup of coffee in a diner, he snapped a picture of Yuri on his phone as he passed by the windows. Before Yuri knew it, more and more of his classmates waited at noon for Yuri to pass the same diner every day.

 _"We love you, Yuri!" Ebony shouted from behind the thick pane of glass._

 _"Beat that Canadian bastard, Yuri!" George yelled every time he passed._

 _"Do it for Detroit!" One of the waiters added behind them._

Yuri barely heard the shouts from his harsh breathing and thumping of feet on concrete, but he rolled his eyes in acknowledgement every time they cheered him on.

Soon, more people had heard that a world-famous ice skater was training around Detroit, and he could be seen running through the heart of the city every night. More people packed the diner across from the People Mover station. He only passed for a few seconds, but people fawned over a glimpse of the reclusive teenager. Some other folks with too much time on their hands lined up by the streets that he jogged, shooting more pictures and posting them online. Brave fans of Yuri cajoled him for his autograph, which Yuri grudgingly signed as he heaved himself down the pavement.

That was his routine. More pushups. More miles. More spins. More jumps. He wanted this gold more than anything in the world. It would symbolize all of the hurt and discomfort, yet all of the newfound joy he found in this city of Detroit. He didn't deserve a gold medal. Isabel did. These programs were for her, and if the power of love could propel Yuuri Katsuki, mediocre amateur to the podium, it could elevate Yuri to new heights as well.

Then, the news hit with just a few weeks to go.

 _"You're not going to believe this," Yuuri ran into the apartment and cornered Yuri at the dining room table._

 _"What?" Yuri asked as he munched on katsudon._

 _"They moved the Grand Prix Final," he shouted._

 _Yuri swallowed the hot pork salivating in his mouth and blinked. "Why would they do that?"_

 _Yuuri shook his head. "Something about slave labor being used to build the ice rink, but that's not important. You'll never guess where they changed it to."_

 _"It's in fucking Detroit, isn't it?"_

Victor choked on his rice. Yuuri had to pound on the man's back to save him.

As the officials began to prepare for the Grand Prix Finals, now held in Detroit, the rest of the city began to catch on. Before Yuuri knew it, his phone had become inundated with voice messages from news outlets that had garnered an interest in Yuri Plisetksy. Spectators from aging businessmen in monkey suits to gangbangers in large hoodies and baggy jeans filled up the ice rink that he practiced at to catch a glimpse of Yuri. Most people knew little about ice skating, but they gathered that something big was happening, and Yuri Plisetsky was a big deal in the ice skating world.

Victor ordered Yuri to remain cordial to all of his new fans. So after practices, Yuri spent a good hour signing posters of himself or posing for pictures. His practices with Isabel finally paid off, and he could not help the small tinge of pride when he saw the decent smile he made in fan pictures. He actually looked happy in the pictures that were multiplying on social media. Local news began to camp out in front of the ice rink for his practice sessions. Fortunately, no leaks of his performance came out.

His new fans were very respectful to keeping it a secret to be revealed soon. With no Detroit skaters to root for, people gravitated to Yuri. People shared his past performances. T-shirts and hats sprouted up from vendors on the streets.

Within the span of weeks, the city of Detroit became the temporary figure skating capital of the world.

Picking himself up from the ice, Yuri flicked the ice remnants from his shining blonde hair and spun in a slow circle. Only the first thousand people were able to fill the seats in the small rink. People from all walks off life chatted and buzzed about the skater on the rink. They clapped every time Yuri so much as blinked. Old, frail ladies shared photos of Yuri with large, hulking black men as a small kid knocked on the ice to get his attention. Some stalking teenage girls shrieked as Yuri scanned the seats in the rink. He felt like a one-man circus as people filled the skating facility. At this point, everybody and their mother wanted to catch a glimpse of the best show in town.

Halting himself, Yuri gripped the wall and opened the rink door. "I'm done for today."

Victor tilted his head. "But the quads aren't ready, yet."

"They'll be ready," Yuri said. "I need to get away from these people."

"It's good practice," Victor said. "The crowd is atypical for a skating event, so if you can handle them..."

Yuri snorted as he plucked off his skates. "These people are rude for an audience. You're not supposed to shout in the middle of a program."

Victor giggled. "You've really brought this city together."

As he headed for the locker rooms behind the rink, Yuri received cheers from the public audience. They clapped him on the back like a basketball player after winning a game as he marched out of the rink area. Yuri kept his shoulder's hunched, but he secretly admitted he liked the new attention. Again, another change he never thought he would see in himself.

Bringing the city together? That sounded...nice. Not one of his goals, but one he could live with.

* * *

Yuri had never bothered to go inside Joe Lewis Arena. After all, the old, grey rectangle seated in front of the river was an aging eyesore. The city planned on tearing the building down as soon as the month prior. However, the relocation of the Grand Prix Finals to Detroit had saved the metal box from the trash can for at least one more event.

Revelers felt up the fading red railings to climb the front steps to the entrance. Throngs of people, mostly local folks, had bought out many of the seats to cheer their adopted son on in the competition. The home crowd was not at all the usual bunch that watched figure skating performances. People in casual clothes ranging from large hockey jerseys to ripped jeans filled the seats, prepared to watch the show like it was a rock concert. Posters of Yuri with cat ears rocked up and down as people sang along to songs over the PA system in the stadium. The whole Finals had a completely different feel to it, one of casual street fare and less elegant nor formal.

With Yuri sitting in a waiting room, Isabel hummed to herself next to him. Her blonde hair still cropped in a neat pixie cut, she bopped her head to the rhythm of the loud song blaring through the dank hallways.

"These people are acting like this is a fucking rap concert."

Isabel grinned as she took Yuri's small hand in hers. "What's wrong with that? I thought you loved rap?"

Yuri sighed. "These competitions are supposed to be quieter. We're figure skaters, not breakdancers."

Isabel chuckled. She grabbed Yuri by the chin and shifted his head to meet her gaze. "Maybe figure skating could use a boost."

"A boost? We don't need a boost. The artistry is a boost enough."

Isabel sighed with mock disappointment. "Yuri, Yuri, Yuri. Don't you think the reason figure skating is so unpopular is because it's out of reach for people?"

Yuri gasped. "Unpopular? Are you crazy?"

Isabel shrugged. "Being honest. Most people in this city didn't care about figure skating a month ago. Most people in the U.S. don't really care. You know why? It's because it's so uptight to everyone else. You guys seem so stuffy and traditional in the figure skating world. I know you're not," Isabel said with a quick point at Yuri's chest. "And I know the others aren't because I've met them."

"Izzy," Yuri said with a quick flash of anxiety. "The men's short programs start in fifteen minutes. Get to the point."

Isabel gestured to the end of the walkway, revealing the shimmering ice rink at the end of the tunnel. "The average person looks at figure skating and they see something that isn't meant for them. All of those guys from Eight Mile and Hamtramck in the stands right now? You skaters don't appeal to them. You can't just take your family on a nice Sunday afternoon to the ice rink and watch figure skating. It's not like going to a Tiger's game. Figure skating is such an...well, it's a-."

"Elitist thing?"

Isabel nodded. "Ask someone if they'll spend twenty bucks on Red Wings hockey match or hundreds of dollars to see one guy skating to turn on a bunch of old, stuffy judges, and it's no contest."

"I got to get ready."

"Alrighty," Isabel chirped with a pep in her step. She skipped next to Yuri as he zipped up his hoodie, walking towards the locker rooms. "So I finally get to see your new program."

"Yep," Yuri said.

"Can you give me a hint about what it's about?"

"Nope."

"Is it about me?"

"Uh...let's just say it's related to what we just talked about."

* * *

"I'm not gonna say good luck or anything stupid like that."

Prepping next to the ice, Yuri glowered at Victor as he flashed a watery smile.

A large buzz vibrated in the arena as the crowd began to notice the thin skater preparing in his tight costume. The poster signs from both the Yuri's Angel fan club, obvious from their bright cat ears on their heads, and the casual revelers of the city rose and waved with anticipation. In fact, most of the crowd rose to their feet, cheering and clapping as Yuri peered at Victor.

It was a simple suit, with no striking patterns but the stripes of white trailing down the underarms towards his side. The bright lavender suit clung to Yuri's porcelain skin. He shifted on his matching green skates; the thin, sequined aquamarine gems sewn into the lapels glistened above the shine of the glacier next to him. His hair trimmed on the edges, it was gelled on the top to avoid any cowlicks. Yuri tugged on the sapphire cuffs digging into his wrists.

Victor told him earlier the suit that signified renewal. Yuri had no idea what that meant, except the renewed chaffing he would get from such a constricting outfit.

"So what stupid thing are you going to say?" Yuri asked, raising an eyebrow.

Victor thought for a second before snapping his fingers. "Skate for yourself, Yurio." Victor said as he gestured towards the crowd cheering around them. "Don't skate to impress me or Yuuri or Isabel or anybody here. Just skate for you."

Yuri shifted his gaze, examining the diverse crowd. As they clapped for Yuri, he pushed off on a skate. While he glided forward, Yuri heard the roar fill up his ears as people shouted out incomprehensible chants and phrases.

Yuri thought Victor's comments were odd as he circled around center ice. A few years ago, Victor told him that the essence of skating was the inspiration. For Victor, that inspiration had always been a person. He could tell by the Russians skating. Whenever he sashayed forward with that solemn, almost lonely expression on his face, the haired Russian embodied grace with every stroke of the skate, but there was never a joyful passion akin to JJ or a sensual desire like Christophe's that bore out of him.

Yuri shook his head of the thoughts, posing with his hands clenched over his chest. That was a conversation for another time.

But what was skating if Yuri was to skate for nobody? Wasn't he supposed to skate for Isabel now? Detroit?

No, he was supposed to be selfish now. After all of those conversations about opening up and sharing with others and not be self-serving, he has to be selfish and only think about himself.

 _Perfect,_ Yuri thought. _Just when I had that old man pegged, he throws a curveball._

 _Throwing a curveball. That's an American expression. Huh._

As he prepared for the skate, he heard the commentators over the din of the shouting fans.

"As you can see, a very odd crowd for a figure skating competition," an old man said, examining the people around him. "I've never seen so many bandanas and jeans with chains in a crowd than here in Detroit."

"So here is Yuri Plisetsky to kick off the men's short program," Leona Simpson said, ignoring the raucous crowd.

"Right you are, Leona," an older man said with a sneer. "I think most people know that already."

"Like how I knew about you and Brenda," Leona said with disdain.

"Anyway," the announcer said. "Plisetsky barely qualified with a fourth place at NHK. He almost collapsed completely in his last program in Japan, so he's hoping for a clean slate."

"His theme for this program is renewal," Leona said as she tapped on her microphone. "He developed this program in the span of a month with his coaches Victor Nikiforov and last year's Grand Prix Gold Medalist, Yuuri Katsuki."

A quick breath. A hush suffocated the crowd.

Yuri closed his eyes, taking in the cold air blanketing the ice.

When he opened them, he only saw Isabel and Yuuri sitting in the crowd directly in front of him.

 _Skating for myself,_ Yuri thought.

 _Fine. I'll play that game._

A drum beat bopped over the speakers.

As the fills thumped, Yuri slid forward, beginning the program. He shifted from side-to-side, giving the appearance of a strut as he moved both skates back and forth.

A clavinet plucked above him as he tucked his arms in for his first spin. He crossed his free leg in front of the pivoting one, twirling into a scratch spin.

Leaving the spin, Yuri released and shot forward like a bullet before heaving himself into the air. Spinning, his vision blurred with every revolution. Then, just as he felt a tad unsure of himself, his skates collided with the ground. Flipping out of the spin, he pushed himself forward towards the end of the ice.

A smirk formed on his face as he saw the shocked faces on the crowd. As he rounded a turn at the end of the rink, he caught Otabek's stare. The normally stoic Khazaki man had his mouth wide open enough to where Yuri thought a car could drive in. Next to him, JJ pushed his hands on top of his head, a loud gasp coming from him as JJ bolted past them. A rush of wind scraped his hair as Yuri leaned down towards the ice before his next step sequence.

The crowd appeared awed as well. Even the less adversed in ice skating realized this was not normal.

"So this is odd," Leona said from the commentator's table. "Certainly a new side of Yuri Plisetksy we are seeing today."

"New version?" The older man next to her shouted. "He's skating to freaking Stevie Wonder!"

"Very superstitious..." A powerful voice echoed in the arena.

As Yuri lifted himself for a triple axel on the other side of the rink, the crowd broke out of their trance and let out a sudden cheer. So sudden, Yuri almost lost his footing on the landing. Undeterred, he growled as he pushed himself to finish the combination with a double lutz.

Okay, so Yuri had to admit that he liked Motown music just a tad after living in Detroit for nearly a year. More than he'd like to admit. As he and Victor were perusing songs he could use, Isabel came into the rink, listening to music on her phone. Victor caught a good idea and demanded that Isabel share with him the songs on her phone. Not to mention, Victor also saw Yuri dancing to "Superstition" in his room by himself. That was an awkward conversation.

Regardless, he wanted to shock the world. After all the drama and changes he had gone through in this crazy town, he wanted to show his respect. Just seeing the stupid expression on JJ and Otabek's faces were reward enough. Ice skaters setting their programs to these kinds of pop songs were rare, but the ice tiger of Russia doing it? It was like Beethoven making dubstep.

Not that Yuri listened to that, either.

The crowd, black and white, old and young, novices and non-skaters alike sang along as Yuri grabbed his free leg and pivoted around in a tight Beilmann Spin. Rotating like wheels on a speeding car, he leapt out of it and charged himself forward.

"Then you'll suffer...superstition ain't the way."

A quadruple flip.

Yuri landed with the smooth edge of the skate, causing him to stumble like a toppling building. He placed a hand forward, pushing off the ice and using his momentum to elevate himself upright. Not a complete tumble, but the revolutions should be enough for big points. Yuri had no time to worry as he kneeled down and strained his legs for a back-sit spin.

As Yuri sprinted through the program, he refused to look over at Isabel, wanting to savor the look on her face when he saw her after this program. The fans from the city clapped along, while the Yuri's Angels section remained confused but happy he was performing something happy for a change.

With a ghost of a chuckle, Yuri reminisced about his life as the song crescendoed into a wall of horns and clavinet echoing in the old ice arena. He wouldn't have been caught dead performing to anything like this. His past skates had been about pain, anger, or the programs dedicated to his grandfather. This skate was jocular, even lackadaisical as he snaked around the entire rink. It was a big party, and he was the disc jockey.

The last portion of his program was a just another triple toe loop. Yuri shook his head as the final chorus broke out. That pathetic move would not do as a climax.

"Superstition ain't the way!"

Yuri braced himself. He knew he did not have enough practice, but he loosened his leg muscles for the big finish.

He took off from the inside edge of his foot. The music died with every second. Ice kicked up from the launch while the silver skate flickered with every turn.

Yuuri gasped, clutching his chest beneath his black business suit. His previously sleeked back hair frazzled from stress and his wandering, fidgeting hands.

Victor laughed. He knew Yuri would be rebellious again.

Isabel grinned. This was a type of skating everybody could enjoy.

Yuri crashed down with the back edge of his skate.

A triple axel. He misjudged his momentum and stumbled again. This time, he refused to touch the ice, charging forward for his final step sequence. Not the cleanest jump, but it would count in a big way.

After a quick flurry of smooth hand movements and a slick one-foot spin, Yuri crossed his arms and scratched to a halt. Lurching at the end, he huffed as the song died over the speakers.

The response was vicious. The crowd, mostly singing along, broke out into a roar of cheers. The hometown crowd shouted out chants of Yuri's name (along with a few happy obscenities for good measure). People pumped their fists as posters and t-shirts waved around as if the Red Wings had just scored a goal. His diehard fans threw cat plushies onto the ice, a few bouncing off his calves.

Yuri spotted various people in the crowd. Otabek clapped with a slight grin on his face. JJ wolf-whistled (whether sarcastic or genuine, Yuri still wanted to slap him) and some of the other skaters looked at each other in surprise. Yuri was the last person anybody expected to skate something so upbeat. Yuri grinned as he turned to face the other side of the rink. His free skate was going to blow their minds.

Yuri's grin fell as he saw the empty chair next to Yuuri. With a frown, he skated towards the edge of the ice where Victor and Yuuri waited for him.

Crossing the barrier, Victor crashed into Yuri with a tight bear hug. Yuuri smiled as he rubbed the tired skater's back.

"Decent job, Yurio," Victor said. "A bit sloppy, but you got enough rotations on everything!"

"You did great, Yurio," Yuuri added. "I'm sure the judges will have you in a decent place."

Yuri pulled back from the hug and peered at the couple with a serious glare. "Where is my girlfriend?"

Victor tried to stomp out a chuckle. Yuri was becoming more possessive by the day. Yuuri, however, scratched the back of his neck. Victor and Yuri gave him inquisitive looks as the Japanese man searched for words. Eventually, Yuuri tilted his head towards the exit tunnel.

"She left?" Yuri nearly growled.

"No," Yuuri spat out. "She saw the whole thing. She was clapping along and nearly made me deaf from her cheering, but right as you ended..."

Victor held his palms up in impatience. "Where is she?"

"She said it was from the hospital. That's all she told me."

* * *

Yuri nearly ran off into the audience to find Isabel, but Yuuri and Victor calmed him down to see his scores. Sitting at the kiss-and-cry, Victor got a text from her saying she was fine and would speak to them after the scores were revealed. Yuri sulked to himself as the judges revealed his fate. Overall, not bad for how hastily the program was put together. The judges noticed Yuri's revolutions on the jumps, and they deducted less from the imperfections than either Victor and Yuuri thought.

As soon as they were over, Yuri flung his skates into Yuuri's lap and ran off to the locker rooms. Ripping off the costume, Yuri grabbed his tiger-print black shirt and white hoodie. He put them on along with a pair of dark jeans before running out into the hallway. Yuuri and Victor were coming back from the kiss-and-cry and paused as Yuri looked around with a frantic pace.

"She's not here," Yuri said.

Yuuri sighed as adjusted his tie. "It's nothing to worry about. I'm sure she'll turn u-."

"I just got a text," Victor said.

"Why is she texting you?" Yuri asked. "Are you her fucking boyfriend?"

"Nope. I'm not her regular one, either," Victor said with a small chuckle.

"Idiot."

Victor looked down at his phone screen and narrowed his eyes. "She said she wants to talk to Kitty, but she's at Campus Martius Park."

Yuri blushed. "Why is she there?"

Victor laughed. "Hold up. Is that your pet-name now, Yurio?"

"Shut up and take me there."

"You have one for her as well?"

"Idiot."

"That's not nice. You call her that?"

"Just shut up and take me there, freak."

Victor ticked his tongue as they began to walk away. "You're running out of insults. Maybe she's changed you after all."

* * *

Campus Martius looked the same as it did that cold night many months ago. To Yuri, it felt like years since he was leaning on the railing of the ice rink, angry and dejected after Yuuri slapped him. Kids still fell on the ice along with some adults. A man still played soft guitar at the stage in front of the tall Christmas tree that glowed in the early night falling on Detroit. People chatted at the coffee tables as hot dogs sizzled, smoke pillowing out of the vendors.

For the past month, things appeared to be headed back to normal for the two. Isabel annoyed Yuri with more random musings and hyper stream-of-consciousness ramblings about nothing. She still had no idea what "personal space" was and made Yuri food in his apartment almost every day. The kiss they shared was kept secret, mostly for Yuri's sake. Isabel was fine telling the world, but she wanted his okay as well.

For as grating as her jokes or her voice or her beautiful eyes could be, Yuri could not bare see a return of depressed Isabel. One bitter, dejected person was enough.

Yuri, his hands shoved into his pockets, walked over the dark pavement, avoiding a few running children in the process. In the same spot he was at on that night, Isabel stood. She looked out at the rink, a pink jacket over her slim body.

"Hey," Yuri said.

She remained frozen in her position.

Yuri moved forward and stopped right next to her.

"Izzy."

She turned her head towards him, a ghost of a smile on her face. "You were amazing out there," she said in an unusually quiet voice. "I saw everything. You worked really hard."

"Stop," Yuri said. "I know when something's wrong. It's about your dad, right?"

Isabel tried to force the smile on her face as she breathed out a long sigh. "The hospital called and said he was going to make it."

Yuri shrugged. "That's good."

Isabel shifted her gaze down to Yuri's feet. Yuri grimaced at her; she looked like a lost kitten in an alleyway as her eternal grin dropped away.

Yuri leaned on the railing of the outdoor ice rink and ran a hand through his blonde locks. "That's...not good?"

Isabel looked into Yuri's eyes. He noticed that dull sheen in them that obscured the brilliant color that he grew to love. She was upset again, and he could not bear it a second longer.

"So he's going to get out soon," Isabel said. "And he'll come back to the apa-."

"Live with us."

Isabel gasped. "What?"

Yuri grabbed Isabel's hands and put them together in his own. The heat between the grip warmed their hands in the frigid breeze tickling their faces. "Live with us in the apartment. We have plenty of room."

"But my dad wi-."

"Do you think I give a shit, Izzy?" Yuri asked. "Listen to me."

"Well, I wasn't before, but since you asked," Isabel said.

"Isabel Flynn," Yuri said as he gritted his teeth in frustration. "I have lived in this stupid town for almost a year. I've almost been mugged twice. I've had to endure that waste of protein you Americans call barbecue food. I-."

"Excuse you, but barbecue food is fan-."

"Let me finish," Yuri barked out. "I have to survive Victor's driving everyday, and then I have to deal with Katsudon's shitty cooking at night. I practice for hours and hours and then still have to finish my homework. And don't even get me started on your music. My God, Americans have the worst taste. I had to go to school and hear about how 'Hamilton' is the best musical ever in American history. And it's not, Isabel. I listened to the soundtrack, and it's shit."

"You're lying," Isabel said. "You love it."

"All of it is shit. That stupid Hamilton guy is the worst rapper ever."

"Take that back."

"A rat pureed in a blender would sound better."

"Take it back right now."

"Never," Yuri said.

Then, he reached over and kissed her.

It certainly was not a romantic kiss, but the two of them buried themselves into the tingle that ran up their spines. Isabel breathed as Yuri deepened the kiss. He hungered for it as the kiss assuaged his daily stress.

Pulling out of the frantic make-out session, Yuri looked over at her, a slight tinge of red on her cheeks. He wiped his mouth and held her in his arms.

"You're the last person in the world I should like. You're positive. You always see the bright side of things. You practically skip with joy everywhere you go. You're outgoing and could make friends with the entire world, and you like to wear bright colors. You disgust me in every single way."

"Is this the part where you say 'but'?" Isabel said.

"But," Yuri said as he kept his hands at her sides. "I can't resist you. All of those things about you. I love all of it. Period."

Yuri flashed a smile at her. "I love you. And I don't mean that in some dumb romance novel 'Let's die for each other like Romeo and Juliet' way. I feel so different from when I first met you in the school hallway. I don't feel like ripping Victor to shreds every time he makes some lame pun about something. I don't want to smack Katsudon whenever he tries to flirt with Victor. Hell, I don't even call him Katsudon anymore. I can actually stand being around people now, even if they're still annoying. I can tolerate JJ."

Yuri leaned in closer, their foreheads almost touching as Isabel mirrored Yuri's smile. "Izzy, I can fucking tolerate JJ. Look at what you've done to me. You have an effect that makes me feel like everything else in life isn't a big deal anymore. I don't hate Detroit anymore. You've shown me all of these great places and the great food here. You forced me to listen to all of the Motown songs, and I realized American music isn't that bad. Homework is easier with you around to distract me from doing it. Before, I had to find ways to procrastinate. Now, I have an excuse for doing it."

Yuri wrapped his arms around her tighter, making her scrunch up to his body. "I even lost the one part of my family that had not abandoned me, but you helped me gain more than that to make up for it. Without you, I would have argued with Victor and Yuuri left and right. I would have left Detroit, and I'd probably become homeless or something like that. I wouldn't have made it through half the shit we've gone through in the past few months without you."

Yuri pecked again on the lips, the succulent cherry flavor remaining on the tip of his tongue. "You are the reason I'm happy here. For once in my life, I'm happy. So I'm going to win this damn Grand Prix, and then you're going to live with us. I don't care how many lawyers or restraining orders or guns we have to go through, but you're moving in. I want you to be at every single skate for the rest of my career. So no arguing, because it's already decided."

Silence. For a second, it was suffocating silence between them. A child laughed as she swirled around on her skates. The black man on stage paused his dawdling on acoustic guitar. An old lady in a giant white overcoat chowed down on a coney dog at a bench.

Then, Isabel laughed. A loud, long laugh. The kind of laugh that makes a person unable to breathe. She clutched her stomach, bending over slightly as her shoulders shook from the tremors.

Yuri shot her a glare, horrified that she would find this amusing. "This is funny to you?"

Isabel wiped her eye of a tear and smiled at Yuri. "Yes. All of this is hilarious to me. We live a funny life, Kitty. A very funny life."

She grabbed his hand and ushered him away from the rink. Yuri glanced at her as they interlocked arms and walked away from the beautiful rink surrounded by the bristling pine trees.

"I would like a queen-sized bed."

Yuri scoffed. "We don't have that much room. You're getting a twin."

Isabel giggled. "No way. What size is your bed?"

"A queen."

"A gentleman would offer his bed to a lady."

Yuri blushed. "Uh...I don't think that came out right."

"I know what I said," Isabel said with a chuckle. "I meant every word."

"Any other request, milady," Yuri said with an eyeroll.

"Lavender curtains," Isabel spoke in a mock English accent. "And I would prefer steak for dinner as opposed to the usual fare."

"You and me both, lady," Yuri said.

"By the way, I totally knew that you loved me," Isabel said as they walked out of the park onto the sidewalk. Victor's car remained parked on the side street across from them.

"How so?"

"In Japan, you said it in Russian. It's what Victor says to Mister Katsuki, I don't know, every five minutes."

Yuri sighed as they approached the car. "I'm stupid. Everything I say is stupid."

"Speaking of stupid things to say," Isabel said with a playful grin. "You tolerate JJ now, huh?"

Yuri grunted. "I'm not repeating what I said."

"So you consider JJ as part of your new family?"

"Is it too late to break up with you?"

"Yup."

* * *

Grand Prix Final Mens' Short Skate:

 _Otabek Altin-102.40_

 _Christophe Giacometti-99.95_

 _Jean-Jaques Leroy-93.64_

 _Phichit Chulanot-90.18_

 _Yuri Plisetsky-82.88_

* * *

 **Here we go! We're getting down to the big finish.**

 **Is Yuri going to win? He has his work cut out for him. Does it matter anymore? What did you think about Yuri and Isabel's last conversation? Did it hit you anywhere, or did you find it annoying? My, how our favorite little jumping bean has come a long way.**

 **As always, make sure to review your thoughts on what's happening. They mean the world to me, and the more I get, the more motivated I feel to finish this story up!**

 **No shoutouts this time. I going to wait until the next chapter; the penultimate chapter.**

 **Doesn't that sound ominous?**

 **As always, thank you to all who support me with reviews, favorites, and just spreading the word. Please keep it up, and I hope you are along for the ride until the very end!**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	34. Grand Prix Finals: Free

_"It's over! Yuuri Katsuki has done it!"_

 _Yuuri's eyes lit up at the sight of the yellow numbers flashing on the scoreboard. The groundswell of roars from the crowd echoed in his small ears with every thump of his heart. The spotlight blared on him, and the cameras flashed as people surrounded him. Reporters barked questions. Adoring fans shouted out his name in ecstasy. It finally dawned on him why everybody was clapping in his direction, instead of at Yurio who just received his scores at the kiss-and-cry._

Then, he felt a tall man smack into him, enrapturing him with his arms. Yuuri knew who it was based on the bright glint of the golden ring hugging the man's finger.

 _"Yuuri Katsuki has won this year's Grand Prix Finals!"_

 _"A remarkable comeback! The man who was a bad skate away from retirement has come back to be the World Champion of Figure skating, and now this year's Grand Prix champion."_

 _"Yuuri," Victor said with tears in his eyes. "You did it, my little pork cutlet."_

 _Yuuri remained limp in his arms, shocked at the final results._

 _"Yuuri, how does it feel to be on top of the skating world?_

 _"Mister Katsuki, what do you attribute this career comeback?"_

 _"Yuuri, are you coming back next year?"_

 _"Yuuri?"_

"Yuuri?"

Yuuri stared at the gold medal in the display case. It was a tall display case seated next to the television in his and Victor's bedroom. Yuuri considered his reflection in the sparse case, his gold medals from the previous season proudly hanging in the center. His cheeks had grown fuller over the past year, and his hair was almost to his shoulders in a mussed-up black mop on his head. A small inkling of dark peach fuzz sprinkled his chin as his sideburns became bushy with hair.

He found himself looking at his accomplishments often, which is why the case was in their bedroom. Yurio would rather jump off the Ambassador Bridge than see Yuuri's victories glaring at him in the oak display.

"Yuuri?"

He whipped his head around. Victor leaned on the baby blue doorframe, his hand shoved into pleated khaki pants. He motioned with a finger as he smirked at the Japanese man.

"Come downstairs. You got to see this."

* * *

On the black sofa, Yuri and Isabel dozed the night away in the dark living room. The flat-screen television mounted on the wall flickered away some movie as the couple slept on each other's shoulder. Both of them appeared less than gracious as the slept. Yuri's mouth was wide open, blaring out a loud snore that made Victor wonder how anybody could sleep next to him. Isabel had a small line of translucent drool draped at the corner of her mouth. Her hair, frazzled and splayed around her, meshed together with the blonde locks that Yuri had taken down from braids earlier. A grey, wool blanket covered the rest of them below their necks.

"Aren't they adorable?"

Victor muted the television, setting down the remote on the coffee table in front of the sofa. He turned around and saw Yuuri smile at the sleeping pair.

"I never thought I'd see Yurio look so peaceful," Yuuri said as he examined Yuri's face, creaseless and flat in a deep dream.

Victor tiptoed over the hardwood floor and hooked an arm around Yuuri's soft shoulders covered by his grey sweater. "When we got back from the park, they argued forever on what to watch on tv."

"Argued?"

"Isabel wanted to watch something called 'Airplane,'" Victor said. "But Yuri really likes 'Mean Girls' for some reason, and he put his foot down."

"He's going to have to learn to share," Yuuri said as slipped out of Victor's grip and walked towards the bay windows behind them. "Teenage girls are high-maintenance."

Victor followed him, a grin plastered on his face with every step he took towards the windows. "And skaters aren't?"

Yuuri ignored the question, staring out at the nighttime skyline. Detroit appeared placid for the time being. The bright buildings and skyscrapers twinkled like the invisible stars overlooking the city. A few cars buzzed by on the streets, but the cool air whistling above the city seemed to usher everybody indoors. There had yet to be a warm day in the past five or six months. From the level they were perched on, Yuuri peered at a forgotten snowbank hiding behind a streetlight on the corner of the street closest to them. If he squinted, he could spot the headlights of cars passing by the interstate behind Comerica Park, skittering down the roads of the city like ants scrambling for food.

Victor grabbed Yuuri's smaller hand, smiling as he enclosed his grip.

"Victor?"

They both kept looking out at the city as Victor squeezed Yuuri's hand.

"It feels like tomorrow is the end."

"The end of what?"

Yuuri sighed. "I was thinking about my last season when you called me. How I decided to retire. I thought it would be just you and me living out our days in Japan or Russia. But with the rollercoaster this season has been with Yurio...It just feels like tomorrow is the end of something. Like a big moment in our lives is happening, and after tomorrow, it's over."

Victor chuckled before rubbing his thumb over Yuuri's hand in reassurance. "Tomorrow is a big day, but it's not the end of anything. Yurio sure isn't retiring after tomorrow. As far as I know, he isn't planning on breaking up with Izzy either."

Yuuri rolled his eyes, a twinge of guilt striking his chest regardless. "I thought you got over when I tried that."

"I did. I just like to remind you sometimes."

"Hey, Victor."

The Russian man looked over at Yuuri. His eyes were wide, adjusting to the darkness to see his fiancee in the din of the city lights.

"You okay?" Victor asked.

Yuuri bit his lip, going over the words in his head. "When we get married, you said you'd want to adopt. I think that maybe it would be best if we...just slow down for a little bit."

"Are you regre-."

"No," Yuuri said in a low voice. "I don't regret anything. Don't say stuff like that. I just think it would be... Gah. I don't know what I'm saying right now."

"It's overwhelming."

"Victor," Yuri said in a quieter voice. "We have our hands full with Yurio already. Now, we're adding Isabel into the mix. Remember what I said in Fukuoka? We could really mess these two up if we aren't careful. We could say the wrong thing or do something bad or push them to turn on drugs or something."

"Push them on drugs?"

"The point," Yuuri said. "Is that I want to take things slow. When we adopt, we're doing it right. For now, we have Yurio and Isabel, and that's okay. Sure, me and Yurio don't get along that great, but he actually respects me now. Isabel...she's done so much for us, and it was just from being herself. They need things like food and school and even counseling, so it's best th-."

"So is it okay to call them family now?"

"What?"

"At NHK," Victor said. "You said it was bad if I gave Yurio the impression that I thought of him as family? But here you are, talking about how we need to provide for them. Has that changed?"

Yuuri sighed, peering back out at the glowing skyline. "They need us, Victor. Both of them need a real family. A family that bugs them and annoys them, but is there every step of the way. That's a family, Victor. A group of parts in a machine that don't fit, but you keep hammering them until every piece is in place. I was lucky to have that, but now it's time to give that to you all."

"You've given me so much already," Victor said as he pecked Yuuri on the nose. "How about this? When we get married, you call the shots. If you want a girl, we'll get one. Want to move back to Japan? We'll do it. Big house? Little house? I don't care as long as it's with you."

Yuuri pouted. "It's no fun if you're just going to go along with everything."

"That what you did for the first two years we were together."

"I'm different now," Yuuri said. "I'm the man of the house."

"Really?"

"This apartment would be burnt to the ground if it wasn't for me," Yuuri said with a grin. "You and Yurio need someone to remind you to chew before talking with your mouth full. So, if that's my job, then that's what I'll do."

"So are you going to be the responsible parent?"

"What?"

"When we adopt," Victor said with a wide smile. "You get to be the parent that always tells the kids to brush their teeth and clean their room while I stay up with them to play games?"

"I feel like I already am in a way," Yuuri said with a light chuckle. "Isabel is not an easy girl to keep around. All of those times where I had to watch her while you and Yurio prepared for a program? She just kept running around talking to strangers or yapping about some weird thing she saw."

"Yurio is much tougher," Victor said. "He always has some sarcastic comment and makes fun of my age."

"You're getting up there, Victor," Yuuri said with a sly grin.

Victor gasped in mock shock. "How dare you! I'm not even in mid-life crisis mode."

"Considering your sorry performance after your birthday party, you'll need to be put in a home soon."

"You promised to not bring that up," Victor said. "I was drunk, and you usually are so submissive."

"Sorry," Yuuri said. "I guess I just like to remind you."

* * *

"JJ!"

"Izzy!"

Rinkside at Joe Lewis Arena, JJ ruffled Isabel's blonde hair before enveloping her in a hug. In a shiny yellow costume with black stripes following down the legs, JJ resembled a lightening bolt as his carefully-gelled hair poked out like thin needles. His skate was only moments away, but the two of them had seen very little of each other in the past month. Also, Yuri was still hesitant to consider JJ a friend of Isabel's, let alone himself.

"Still trouble in paradise?"

"Nope," Isabel laughed. "Poured his heart out, just like you said he would."

"Our little Yuri," JJ smiled with a shake of his head. "So closed off, yet so predictable."

"Well, Yuri said if he found me here during the skates, he would break up with me," Isabel said. "So I have to sit with boring Mister Katsuki."

"Surely, you can't be serious?"

"I am serious," Isabel said as a grin expanded on her face.

"And don't call me Shirley!" They both said in unison before exploding into a fit of laughter.

"Well, Good luck, JJ. I'd be lying if I said I hope you win..."

"No big deal. I don't need luck. Just clap when Yuri ends up in second or their. He has a sensitive ego."

"Tell me about it."

"Hey, Isabel."

"Yeah?"

"Don't change, alright? I don't care where you came from, we're still gonna be friends."

"Ditto, JJ."

"Although," Isabel said. "If you did want to change, I have some suggestions. Like maybe it would be best to not call Yuri a girl aro-."

"Oh, look at that," JJ said. "Time to go."

With those words, JJ sashayed towards the ice, ready for his final free program.

* * *

This was it.

Yuri stretched the arms on his new costume. The fabric thin, he rubbed down a wrinkle on the cerulean suit that clung to his ivory skin. His costume was blue, with sparkles of yellow and white popping on sewn gems with every flicker of the arena lights targeting Yuri's figure. The skater slid over the slick glacier as the crowd stood up for one final time to greet him. The months of effort and agony were coming to a close with one final show.

He knew the scores. He knew the program. He did not care anymore. His only instinct was to skate.

Stopping himself at mid-ice, the crowd hushed as he craned his neck. Yuuri and Isabel forwent seats and decided to stand with Victor rinkside.

Otabek, whose skate was finished, flashed a thumbs-up gesture.

Yuuri smiled.

Isabel shouted. "Davai!"

Victor whistled.

The renewal of Yuri Plistesky as a skater began now.

"Well..."

Yuri flashed a smile, his green eyes vibrant as he pointed forward at a certain blonde girl.

"You know you make me want to shout!"

As the song blared from the speakers, Yuri pivoted on his skates and flew off into an immediate sit spin. Elevating himself with his balancing leg, he twirled as the crowd bursted to life with the music.

Yuri remembered when he first suggested to Victor and Yuuri that he change his program. The programs never fitted him well anyway. However, Isabel added a major wrinkle to his skating. The old songs he performed were now obsolete. The feelings boiling inside Yuri were no longer anger or dejection. The skate was for Isabel. It was also for Yuuri and Victor and Otabek and even a little for JJ. Yuri was comfortable showcasing his emotions to the world, but only on the ice. So, he wanted the world to finally know that he was happy, so "Shout" by The Isley Brothers became the perfect song for Yuri's free program.

Yuri nearly laughed to himself as he thrusted himself into the air, smacking the ice with his skates upright in a tight triple salchow.

Yuri Plisetsky could finally admit to himself that he was happy.

"I want you to know..."

The Russian skater sped up like a bullet from a gun as he sprang upward into another jump. A perfect triple axel combination with a double toe loop.

"I said I want you to know right now..."

The crowd clapped along, electrified by him. He was giving the home crowd in Detroit something to cheer about all right.

"You've been good to me baby, better than I've been to myself."

Snaking around the ice, he leapt again. The world became a blend of pinks and reds as he twisted in the air. The ice crunched underneath him as he slid forward past the jump.

Yuri felt the breeze float past him as he went for a double axel. Landing, he twirled like the spinning wheels on Victor's car driving him around the city. He found himself getting less and less nauseous with Victor at the wheel, even getting used to the jarring stops and sudden accelerations. He finally understood how the bus system worked in Detroit (as well as anybody else did). He was even used to the different street signs by now. This concrete wasteland of crumbling buildings and chopped cement breaking sidewalks felt like home for him now.

Breaking out of the spin, Yuri grew warmer, lighter as he relaxed his muscles. He wasn't skating for just his grandfather anymore. He skated for his once-rival that cooked and cleaned for him every night. He skated for the coach he once despised for abandoning him and now saw him as practically his son. He skated for his old friend that helped him in his time of need. He skated for that annoying Canadian that he hoped would stop smirking after he saw the final score.

Most of all, he skated for her. The annoying, talkative blonde American that was the reason he felt any of this to begin with.

If they hadn't met in that school hallway that day, Yuri would have continued his life by himself. An antisocial foreigner, he would have gained no new friends or fans. He would have collapsed after his grandfather's death. After that, he would have argued with his coaches before splitting apart and moving back to Russia. There would be no comeback for the defeated teenage boy, and he would have left the ice skating profession soon after.

Yuri felt his throat constrict when he thought of her again, breezing through a difficult step sequence across the ice like a warrior slaying a dragon.

"A little bit softer now. A little bit softer now."

As he spun back around for the big finish, his eyes met electric blues.

The inspiration for his costume.

Isabel Flynn would have been the poor girl pretending to be okay with life. She would have continued being neglected, and with no outlet or person to share her problems with, she would have been on the path to self-destruction. Her father's harsh word would wear her down to the breaking point. She wouldn't bother masking her worries anymore. She would stop smiling that wide grin or spilling that infectious laugh from her lips. Isabel Flynn would simply give up. When her father went to the hospital, there would be no family to take her in or comfort her. She would soon be on the street, homeless and without any hope.

 _No,_ Yuri thought to himself. _She has a family now. And so do I._

"A little bit louder now."

Yuri poured his entire being into the sit spin. The world rushed by like a hurricane as he etched tight circles on the ice. Faster. The banners with his name on it in Cyrillic and English blended with the ragtag crowd shouting their heart's out. The faceless crowd remained mute to him as the world disappeared in a mush of vibrant violets and pinks as the song walloped the arena.

Releasing from the spin, he regained his footing and zoomed across the ice. Suddenly, his brain switched back on the noise. He noticed the hyper crowd mixing with the depressing song. The music melted back into his brain, making him feel as light as the low fog that sneaked through Downtown Detroit every day from the lake.

Yuri pushed himself around like a snow flurry and whipped into a triple toe flip.

Land.

A combination with a triple lutz.

The crowd cheered again as he skated past Victor. He nodded in approval as Yuri buckled his legs for another takeoff.

The big finish. He was going to make them never forget who he was. A warrior. A tiger on the ice. The last segment of his program confronted him. He felt like he had to do something big. Not the big like he did in his past competitions. This finale was only for her.

In the heat of the moment, Yuri bolted down to center ice. He didn't care about losing for once, only that everyone could see his next moves. As the song entered its final segment, he remembered the panhandling drummer on the street on his way to school. The rhythm the beatings made on the narrow, cracked sidewalk electrified his heart like a defibrillator. The cars whizzing by as he sat on the rooftop with Isabel. Their walks from school to his apartment, where Yuuri waited with katsudon and Victor with flirtatious banter.

The moments of sadness where they comforted each other in their loneliest nights. The soft, distracting touches she lay on him.

Yuri pursed his thin lips together, blinking away a bead of sweat from his eye. He leaned his body down slightly and sprang up from the outside skate edge behind him. Spinning in the air, his arms closed deep into his chest while he held his breath. His form had a confidence that showed he had done this thousands of times in practice.

Yuri nailed the ice with the outside edge of his skate.

A quadruple toe flip.

Yuri charged forward. He went up again and twirled for a triple axel spin.

Victor laughed. Again, he had to upstage his signature move.

When Yuri landed the triple axel, he barely noticed the crowd shouting in a frenzy. People were standing up and cheering like a throng of revelers in a New Years' party at midnight.

Yuri, still oblivious, clenched his teeth and took another deep breath. He would nail this next move. It had never been performed before, but he wanted to go out with a bang. No regrets anymore.

"You know you make me want to shout." the lyric roared.

The skates scarred the ice one more time as Yuri flung himself into the air. He cut through the sky like a twister, the aching in his legs giving way to the bliss of zero gravity.

Pulled down to earth, Yuri braced himself for whatever came next.

The skate slammed onto the ice like two attracted magnets. Yuri's arms stayed firm as his balance remained intact.

A quadruple axel.

Yuri finished the program with the scheduled triple flip and loop combination he was supposed to do earlier. Nailing the jumps, he circled around the rink for a few seconds. As the music ended, he snapped back to center ice, the wide smile plastered on his face as he lassoed one final breath.

"Shout!"

He stopped in center ice, right in front of her. One finger pointing at her, a smile plastered on his face.

The audience cheered like screaming banshees. People toppled over each other, waving their signs and posters of him. They jumped up and down as if they won the lottery. The screaming filled the entire arena, bursting through the vents and hallways of the arena. Detroit was in complete pandemonium. Older black woman hugged some of Yuri's classmates. Businessmen high-fived gangsters.

"Unbelievable," Leona Simpson shouted. "The first time a quadruple axel has ever been performed. Yuri Plisetsky has given us the performance of a lifetime."

Yuri didn't hear a sound.

The couple stared at each other. The blonde girl returned his smile. However, it was gentle. Almost comforting. She didn't hop up and down in joy like Yuuri and Victor were doing right now. She didn't clap like Otabek. She didn't roar with appreciation like the people around her.

She just smiled.

That was all Yuri needed.

* * *

 _Grand Prix Finals Results_

 _Jean-Jacques Leroy-301.98_

 _Otabek Altin-294.12_

 _Yuri Plisetsky-293.22_

 _Phichit Chulanot-285.35_

 _Christophe Giacometti-277.93_

* * *

"When I say King, you say JJ. King!"

"JJ!

"King!"

"JJ!"

Yuri clutched his head, trying to drown out the celebration across the rink. JJ pointed at his fans as the small Candian delegation cheered as he lifted up his gold medal for the world to see. Isabella clapped next to him as he howled in happiness at his victory. Most of the crowd had left, leaving just a clean-up crew and a few remaining skaters to mosey around the rink. A few scraps of poster board and torn pieces of paper strewn around the rink as janitors walked around to pick up the mess. The zamboni hummed along the far edge of the ice, puttering as it erased the deep slashes from the skates.

Despite breaking a free program world record, Yuri was too far behind the frontrunners to capture a gold medal. Otabek finished second with a beautiful final skate. However, it was JJ's ironic free program, a skate to Coldplay's "Viva La Vida" that finally won the day. Phichit powered his way to a career best fourth. However, a tearful Christophe left the ice for most likely his last skate. Victor made sure to give him a farewell hug as the Swiss skater left in fifth place. Yuri was not terribly upset he finsihed bronze, considering th circumstances. However, the one damper was the fact that he and Otabek both lost to the one skater he could not stand.

"He's never going to shut up about this," Yuri growled, a sneer of disdain pointed at the reveling Canadian's celebration. Yuri tugged on the zipper of his Russia hoodie, pulling it up all the way to his neck.

Isabel smiled as she pulled on the hem of her blue miniskirt before licking her lips. She crossed her arms, examining the happy skater currently kissing his fiancee. "Well, on the bright side, he and Isabella can finally get married."

"I don't care. It's not like they're gonna lasting long, anyway," Yuri said.

"Not nice, Kitty," Isabel said. "I give it at least six months."

I give it three weeks."

Isabel flashed a mischievous smirk at Yuri. "Wanna bet?"

Yuri sighed before leaning on the wall around the rink.

"Hey, Kitty,"

Yuri looked up. "Yes, Izzy."

"I know you're not happy, but bronze is still great," Isabel said. "In dim lighting, it looks kinda like gold."

"But it's not," Yuri said, glowering at the bronze around his neck. He stood up and shook his head towards Isabel. "A Russian skater not winning gold is like birds not being able to fly."

"Yuri, Yuri, Yuri," Isabel ticked. "Don't be so hard on yourself. How did you think this would end?"

"What?"

"In these kinds of stories, you can't get the girl and win the contest. It's one or the other. Like Rocky."

"Don't know what that is."

"In that case, we're watching Rocky first chance we get."

"I wanted to win gold for you."

"You don't have to win anything for me, Yuri," Isabel said as she leaned her forehead on his. The distance between their lips closing. "You know you're stuck with me, right? I'm not going away."

Yuri scoffed. "The moment you started following me home, I knew I wasn't getting rid of you."

Isabel giggled. "Why can't you be romantic and just kiss me?"

Yuri rolled his eyes, a smirk on his face. He ran a hand through Isabel's soft hair, making her illicit a soft moan as she smiled at him. "Because the idiots are here."

"Yurio!" Victor said, popping up next to Yuri. He slung an arm around him. "We're so proud you were able to pull through. I didn't think you would finish on podium, but you came back and did it. Just remember, We still have Worlds' in a month. We're going to practice extra hard this time."

"What?" Isabel asked. "Worlds'?"

"Yeah," Yuuri chirped as he grabbed Victor's hand. "We have Worlds' and a whole bunch of other competitions coming up."

Otabek, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, walked over with his silver medal hanging from the front of his white warm-up jacket. "Don't forget qualifying for the Olympics. We do that this year."

Isabel's eye twitched. "Wait a second. So this wasn't the last competition?"

Yuri laughed. "Nope. We still have many more to go."

"B-but you did the whole dramatic bit of collapsing on the ice with tears in your eyes." Isabel said.

Suddenly, Isabel felt a hand ruffle the top of her head. JJ appeared, a deep grin on his face and the gold medal from the Grand Prix Final's proudly displayed around his neck. "It's never over until you retire, Isabel. Speaking of which, what happened out there, Yuri-chan?"

"Shut up, JJ," Yuri glared at the taller man. "We just developed the program last month. When I get more practice in, I will destroy you at Worlds'."

"Oh really?"

"Then, I'm going to beat you at the Olympics."

"How?"

"I just will. I'm going to beat you so bad at the Olympics," Yuri said, a flush of red coming over his face. "That you'll retire the moment I get off the ice. You'll have to be carried away on a stretcher, because I'm never losing another competition to you ever again."

A throat cleared.

The group looked over at Phichit, a phone in his outstretched hands. "Sorry for interrupting, but I wanted to take a picture of this group."

Yuri crossed his arms. "I'm not taking a picture with this Canadian horse behind me."

Victor rubbed Yuri's shoulders. "Come on, Yurio. A picture of the three best ice skaters in the world. You, Otabek, JJ? And us to boot? Just take the picture."

So that's how Yuri found himself next to Jean-Jacques Leroy. He grudgingly held up his bronze as Otabek smiled with his silver. JJ flashed his signature hand gesture, signifying his victory. Victor hovered behind Yuri, clapping his hands on his shoulder like a proud parent as he grinned at the camera. Yuuri leaned on Victor, smiling with genuine attitude while clasping Victor's forearm.

Then, there was Isabel.

Just before the flash blinded them, Isabel wrapped her arms around Yuri's neck. Yuri blushed before turning his head towards her. Isabel's bright smile widened as her bright blue eyes seemed to shine with more luster than ever before. Yuri's own gaze softened from one of annoyance to content. Just staring at each other made him comfortable next to JJ as Phichit gave a final command. This beautiful, odd stranger from Detroit had completely wrenched his heart of room for anybody else.

The girl that helped him reconnect with Victor. The girl that helped repair his relationship with his former rival. The girl that strengthened his friendship with Otabek. The girl that even brought in a man he completely hated, but found himself just a tiny bit happy to be competing against.

"Davai?" Isabel whispered.

Yuri pecked Isabel on the lips, a smile gracing his face. "Davai."

"Okay, everybody," Phichit said. "On the count of three. One...Two...Three!"

"Davai!" They both shouted.

Flash.

* * *

 **Well, that's the story! There's an epilogue coming up, so don't leave yet! It won't be very long, but it will be satisfying and will close us out in a good way.**

 **I know you may be disappointed that Yuri lost, but like Isabel said: in these stories, it's either the girl or the medal. I couldn't let Yuri have it all!**

 **So all in all, Yuri met some hyper, peppy blonde in Detroit, fell in love, reconnected with Yuuri and Victor, made an extra friend or two, and finished 3rd in the Grand Prix. Yuuri grew a backbone and came to terms with this new family he has. Victor grew less selfish and learned about people's emotions while becoming attached to the new group in his life. JJ became more humble and learned to be more aware of people's feelings. Otabek stayed pretty much the same. Interesting story.**

 **I will save all of my overall story thoughts and thanks for the very last chapter up next. I have quite a bit to say, and I want to thank all of you. But I'm not doing it yet, because if I do, you won't stick around for it in the epilogue.**

 **Shout out time:**

bstarqueen: The main idea was that Isabel would be different and OOC. It's okay to make people OOC if the situations call for it, and I'm glad you think it did. All of your philosophizing and analyzing of my character's motivations and designs really makes me blush with joy. Thank you so much for coming along on this great ride!

And yes, the way Yuri handled it shows just how these characters have changed. In a way, I consider Chapter 32 the emotional end of the story, since the character growth pretty much stops there.

Applejack456: I try to inject humor into as many moments as I can without it appearing to be jarring. And I hope it turned out well. It's not 1st place, but like Isabel said!

starlightNALU: I hope your sister enjoys this as much as I love writing it. I try to keep things brief, but put in just enough to let the imagination take its course when putting in imagery. Sometimes I go overboard, but a lot of times I feel it's too bare.

theflyingpenguin: I'm happy that this fic reminded you of a roller coaster in a good way. I was really inspired, and I think I did well for what it's worth.

Erzatscarlett: I know the GPF is in Europe, but I wanted the climax in Detroit. Besides, it was in Qatar until it got moved. I'm sure the international skating body would like to include other countries once in a while. Too bad they picked the wrong one. Also, I wanted to incorporate Joe Lewis Arena since it was one of the few landmarks I hadn't touched yet.

 **In the next chapter, I will be giving out my thanks instead of shouting out. See what I have to say about you! Also, i you have any questions, i will answer them. Ask me anything about how I came up with this story, OC, dialogue, you name it, I'll answer it!**

 **The epilogue is up next. However, in case you decide to stop here, just a blanket thanks to everyone who every reviewed, favorited, or supported this fic in any way. We are one of the most-reviewed, and I believe the longest story for Yuri On Ice! on fanfiction! That's an accomplishment that I could not have come close to achieving without you.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**


	35. The Good Life

The periwinkle pillow bounced off the wall across from Yuri's bed.

"Fucking again?" Yuri whispered to himself.

In the dark room, Yuri heard the loud bumps and squeaks knocking on his ceiling above him. He scowled, incensed as the nostrils flared on his small nose. All Yuri could do at the ungodly hour of three in the morning was glare at the pillow he threw in anger. He tried to cover his ears. He tried his noise-canceling headphones. He smothered his head underneath his silk sheets. Despite his efforts, the groans grew louder like two trumpets blaring away in the jazz club in Greektown.

Yuri groaned, then flung the sheets off his body. His cerulean pajamas hung loose on him as he stormed out of his room. Banging his big toe in the doorframe, he growled while stumbling down the hallway. He climbed up the spiral staircase, grasping the steel handlebar in a vice grip. The cold metal slid through his soft hand with every stomp he made.

Yuri stopped at the blue door, glowering at the wood as he heard the voices in the locked room.

"Yuuri, please. I need to rest," Victor said, obviously in an exhausted state.

Creak.

"I'll stop when I'm done, Victor."

Groan.

"Plea-ow. Please, Yuuri," Victor begged. "I'm going to die from exhaustion."

Smack.

"Then your death will be a happy one."

Knock.

Yuri slammed on the door with his closed fist. "What did I tell you idiots? No sex after dark?"

The voices stopped. Yuri crossed his arms while a thud echoed from the room.

Footsteps.

The door opened. It was Yuuri, standing shirtless with only a pair of black sweatpants hugging his hips. A layer of sweat glistened on his surprisingly flat chest. He had a stern look on his face; his breath terse and fast.

The two stared at each other. Yuri kept his arms crossed.

Yuuri, who had his hand on the door, cleared his throat.

"Good evening, Yurio."

Yuri scoffed. "Don't 'good evening' me. What did we talk about?"

Yuuri frowned. "You said no sex at night until after the Grand Prix Finals. That was two months ago."

Just as Yuri was about to retort, the words died in his throat. Yuuri's frown had turned into an outright snarl as his lip curled up in frustration. His tawny eyes glowered at the teenager as he looked down at Yuri with an insignificance that made Yuri a little small. The japanese man with the slicked back obsidian hair, fat melted away from his thin cheeks, was clearly frustrated from the now eighteen-year-old skater that was interrupting his pleasure sessions.

Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

"I have business I need to take care of, Yurio," Yuuri said. "Can this wait until the morning?"

Yuri dropped his arms to his side. He was slightly terrified of Yuuri in rage mode already. He did not want to see Yuuri's anger when pumped up with testosterone and lack of sex.

"Uh...sure," Yuri squeaked. "Just...keep it down, okay?"

Yuuri smirked. "Good night."

The door slammed shut.

Yuri stood like a marble statue, mouth agape as he stared at the door. The noises started again a few seconds later.

* * *

The condominium overlooking Downtown Detroit was largely unchanged except for two things.

First, the guest bedroom across the hall from Yuri was no longer bare. A slew of half-packed boxes and clothes sat in the walk-in closet. A queen-sized bed, almost never made up completely, rested by the back wall with pink and violet sheets draped over the blue comforter. A mahogany nightstand implanted next to it, an electric alarm clock blinked the time away. Next to the clock, the only possession from the girl's old apartment save for her small variety of clothes was inserted in a golden frame. The picture of the little girl smiling with the middle-aged man from a much more peaceful and simple time; a slight tear curled on the top right edge.

Yuri wanted her to throw the photograph away, but she decided to hang on to it. It was her only happy picture of him.

The day after the Grand Prix Finals, Yuri had Otabek drive him and Isabel over in his motorcycle sidecar to her old apartment. She was unusually shy and quiet as they rummaged through her lackluster closet and important documents. All of her stuff fit into the trunk of the car Victor brought over to them after his and Yuuri's meeting with an attorney.

Since Isabel was technically a minor for at least six more months, Yuuri and Victor had to petition to be her guardians. They hired a lawyer to get power-of-attorney over the girl. However, the process was slow and cumbersome. Wayne County courts were not known for their efficiency.

By the fourth meeting, Yuuri had enough. The normally awkward man flung himself over table, grabbed the rotund, portly old man by the tie and shouted loud enough for the night court justice down the hall to hear.

 _"We're paying you a lot of fucking money, you bitch," Yuuri shouted. "If you're going to waste my time, then get out of here. This girl is stuck in that apartment because of your incapable ass, so hurry up and do your damn job!"_

Yuri made a note to never anger the Japanese man ever again. In an instant, he could go from a sweet bowl of katsudon into the devil incarnate. Yuuri Katsuki truly grew a backbone in the past few months.

The next day, the papers were delivered to Isabel's father. Technically, he was still her legal father, but the gruff man had resigned himself to the mess he had put his daughter through. He decided to acknowledge the order and accept the results. When they delivered the papers, she told Yuri to stay outside of the apartment with Victor. Apparently, Isabel's meeting with her father was emotional, clearly still caring about the man despite his neglect.

When she walked out, she had a small grin, her hands empty from the papers. Her father acknowledged and accepted her move. Then again, he was court ordered to a month of drug rehab in Kalamazoo, so he had little choice in the matter.

So Isabel had lived with her new boyfriend and new legal guardians (Victor preferred the word "fathers") for the past two months. In that time, Yuri had won gold at Worlds' with Russian nationals coming up. However, despite Yuri returning to normalcy through his skating domination, he thought his and Isabel's relationship would be the same as before considering she spent much time in their apartment to begin with.

Yuri was dead wrong. He experienced the prats and pitfalls of living with a loved one at such a young age with extreme speed.

Sadly, that is another story for another time.

* * *

Isabel sucked on the straw of the apple juice box, her pink jacket zipped up as she leaned on the marble counter of the kitchen. Yuri scowled at her, tapping his fingers in annoyance on the table. The furniture of the living room and kitchen was roughly the same as well. The black leather sofa with love seat across from it. The wood coffee table that gleamed with a fresh coat of wax underneath the rumbling fan. The plasma television that reflected translucent light of it's blank screen. Even the air fresheners puffed out the same honeysuckle fragrances into the warm condominium air.

Isabel slurped the rest of her apple juice before raising an eyebrow at Yuri. He wore a nice silk suit with a blue bow tie. His hair, an inch longer than the Grand Prix Finals, was combed and parted neatly towards the side. However, despite his formal appearance, he fumed at the girl with the casual jacket in front of him.

"You can't be that upset at me." Isabel said as she threw the box into the basket.

Yuri rolled his eyes. "You told me it was only an hour long."

Isabel shrugged as footsteps pattered down the spiral staircase. "The soundtrack was only an hour long, so I assumed."

"And what happens when we assume?" Victor said as he hopped off the final step onto the hardwood floor in penny loafers. He and Yuuri wore similar black tuxedos with matching red ties. The slim Japanese man climbed down the steps and planted himself next to Victor.

"What's the problem, Yurio?" Yuuri asked, his face absent of any spectacles. He had ditched his glasses permanently a month ago, deciding he looked better with contacts in whenever out in public.

"We just saw Hamilton," Isabel chirped with a wide smile.

"And it was bullshit," Yuri said. He slumped his shoulders while shaking his head in disdain. "Worst music I've ever heard."

"Then why were you humming 'My Shot' in the cab?" Isabel said.

"Shut up," Yuri yelled as Isabel laughed at his frustration.

Victor smiled before crossing over the expanse of the floor and reaching out towards Yuri. He took both of his hands and tilted Yuri's bowtie.

"It's crooked," Victor said as he straightened up the neck noose.

Yuri smacked his hands away. "The entire play was stupid. I mean, why would you make a rap musical about America's founding?"

Isabel giggled. "Same reason you'd make any piece of art, I guess. It wasn't that bad, though. I'm not usually a fan of opera. But it kept my attention."

Yuri growled. "Don't ever say Hamilton and 'opera' in the same sentence again."

Victor patted Yuri on the head. "Calm down, Yurio. Enjoy life for once."

"I would if I wasn't dragged to things like that," Yuri said with a grimace.

Victor turned to Yuuri who had taken in the whole conversation. "We should go see that tomorrow. I know a guy that could get us tickets."

Yuuri took a step back and raised an eyebrow. "I already saw it when I went to New York for Skate America that one time."

"And?" Isabel and Victor shouted together in excitement.

Yuuri shrugged. "Meh. '1776' is better."

Isabel sighed. She looked over at the cuckoo clock on the wall across from her. Grabbing Yuri's hand, she began to pull him down the hall. "Love to stay and chat, but we gotta go."

Yuri groaned as he followed behind her. She was still as bossy and random as usual. However, for the headache he recieved from Alexander Hamilton's incessant rapping skills (or lack thereof in his opinion), it paled to the migraine he was about to receive from hearing Jean-Jacques Leroy's voice over dinner. Damn his girlfriend for being so close to the Canadian idiot. He still had no idea what she saw in JJ to value the larger man as a friend. At least Otabek would be at the dinner to quell any possible outbursts from Yuri.

Otabek, by the way, had finished silver in the past two major events. He was getting annoyed by it, and Yuri was preparing himself with great satisfaction at Otabek Altin's resurgence in next year's skating season.

"Say hey to JJ for me," Victor shouted as they neared the door.

"Ask him how the honeymoon was," Yuuri said.

Yuri blinked. Right, the honeymoon.

Yes, JJ and Isabella finally tied the knot after fulfilling his promise to win the Grand Prix Finals. It was a beautiful ceremony in Windsor at the park by the Ambassador Bridge. Yuri didn't care, though. Sure, he may have cried throughout the whole wedding, but those were allergies. Okay, maybe he also cried about how his girlfriend looked amazing in her new red dress Victor and Yuuri bought her for the wedding, but he still didn't care. And perhaps Yuri nearly collapsed with emotion when JJ toasted Yuri on his recent World Championship and called him a great friend, but...okay, he had no excuse for that. Overall, he had a miserable time except for the dance-off that happened or the reception or pretty much the entire ceremony.

Okay, so Jean-Jacques Leroy wasn't as annoying as before.

Although Yuri could still say with complete certainty that watching JJ and Isabel dance with each other at the party fueled a rage within him that could have rivaled a nuclear bomb. He had grown quite possessive of his girlfriend.

Yuri slogged next to the bubbly girl. Isabel skipped next to him, heading towards the door. His face long, Yuri sighed before reaching for the golden doorknob with hs ungloved hand.

"Isabel?"

Both Yuri and Isabel turned around. Victor smiled at the blonde girl as their eyes connected. Both different shades of blue.

"Take care of Yuri for us."

Isabel smiled. A quiet moment of understanding flowed between them as the rays from the sun dipped below the buildings outside. An understanding of how much not just Yuri, but all of them had changed over their time together. For just an instant, they both saw the same film of this small group of misfit parts that had grown into something special; a group of people that could not function without the other.

Isabel winked, flashing the same smile of gratitude that Victor gave to her. "You bet."

Yuri scoffed as he turned the door handle. "I don't need taking care of."

Yuuri waved at the couple. "Nice bowtie, Yurio. Glad you finally bought it."

Without turning around, Yuri shouted from over his shoulder. "Whatever. Bye."

Yuri and Isabel disappeared as the door slammed shut. Just as it closed, Yuuri yelped as he felt a strong pair of arms shift him off his feet. He bumped into the counter, leaning back as Victor towered over him.

"Victor! What are you doing?"

Victor mashed his lips onto Yuuri's. Desperation and comfort electrified Yuuri's mind as he threaded his fingers through Victor's silver hair. The kiss deepened as they grew intoxicated further as Victor snaked his hands by the hem of Yuuri's black dress pants. For a few fleeting seconds, the engaged couple lost themselves to the gripping sensations that squeezed their nerves.

When Victor raised his head away, Yuuri instinctively leaned forward to continue the kiss. Victor chuckled as he stared down at his fiancee.

"Victor," Yuuri said. "We're going to be late for the press conference. It's starts in twenty minutes."

"Don't care," Victor said as he began to unbutton his white dress shirt.

"I'm serious," Yuuri said with a forced frown on his face. "If we're late for this, the press will start passing rumors of us breaking up again. Then, we have to see the accountant at the bank, and you know I don't like him. So, I want that meeting done as soon as possible. And don't forget we have that appointment with Immigration. I don't want to get a call in a month about our visas being expired like last ti-."

"Yuuri."

He stopped his rambling and noticed his reflection in Victor's ice blue eyes. The flustered, irritated Yuuri gave way to a soft nostalgia as he saw Victor's placid expression towards him. The man that he had been addicted to in secret for all of those years in Japan. The man that broke into his life and coached him to victory. This man who the public viewed as amazing embodiment of figure skating perfection that Yuuri knew as a goofy, optimistic man with an awful sense of humor. As Victor's gentle smile melted Yuuri's resolve, he brushed his hand through his grey hair once more, a sniffle coming from the Russian man.

Victor stroked Yuuri's warm cheek while holding back the saline in his eyes.

"This is a good life we have, Yuuri. Here in Detroit."

Yuuri smiled and brushed away a tear from his cheek. "It's only a good life with you, Victor."

Yuuri wrapped his arms around Victor's middle, giving the Russian man a soft hug. He nuzzled his face into the side of Victor's neck, relishing the peace they had together. Their future marriage was replete with many ups-and-downs, big arguments, and the occasional threat to leave and stay in a hotel for the night. Despite his fears, Yuuri knew they would overcome them every time. They would make it through the long hours of paperwork and coaching and spats. They would grow old together. They would raise children together.

That was all they needed. A family of their own. Not fame. Not money. And it pained Victor to admit it, but not even gold medals or world records would suffice anymore. Just a family.

Although in a strange way, they already had it.

However, since no good moment could just pass with any hint of decency, somebody had to ruin it.

Victor cleared his throat, pulling away from the hug to face Yuuri. "I don't mean to ruin the moment, Yuuri, but I was serious a second ago. You got me really hot and bothered right now, and we haven't done it in a few days, so cou-."

Yuuri groaned. "Fine, but be quick. And don't get anything on my clothes."

Victor smiled and shrugged off his tuxedo jacket.

* * *

The second thing that had changed in the apartment was the display case.

Next to the bay windows overlooking downtown Detroit, Yuuri Katsuki hung his small variety of medals and trophies from his glorious, but brief career in professional ice skating. Victor kept his awards in his own display case in their bedroom. He did not mean to brag, but his numerous victories warranted his own case, a sentiment that Yuri promised to ruin by winning more championships than his coach.

It was a large glass case with sapphire glass shelving that propped up the accolades garnered by both Yuuri Katsuki and his Russian counterpart. Yuri Plisetsky had his medals installed into the case. His gold, silver, and most recent bronze from the Grand Prix finals hung next to his newest trophy from the World Championship. Yuri's other victories from the likes of Skate America were on the bottom rack, not nearly as prestigious as the big victories.

The trophy case was sparse at the moment. Yuri promised his coaches and his girlfriend that this case would be filled with more world championships and medals than Victor Nikiforov could have hoped to achieve if he had not retired. He had even sent for Yakov to ship over his junior circuit awards from Russia to Detroit. So whichever way he looked at it, Yuri Plisetsky was here to stay in Detroit, Michigan. This city was one he had grown to love, since it had given him his first love. Tell him that, and he would agree after a long eye roll and sarcastic remark.

The display case was a symbol for settling down for Yuuri and Victor. It was a symbol of acceptance from Yuri.

For Isabel Flynn, it meant something else.

The object at the center of the display case was not a trophy. It was not a memento from a past feat achieved by any of the three ice skaters living together.

It was a picture.

In a golden frame, the picture shimmered as the sun set over the beautiful Detroit skyline. The wind whistled past the window as an explosion of magenta blanketed the cool Spring night. Reflecting the skyline, the picture sat in it's rightful place in the middle of the tall, square case.

The picture was the one Phichit snapped at the Grand Prix Finals. In the picture was a Japanese man who had grown to stand up for himself after meeting the man of his dreams. Next to him was his future husband, a man who had seen past a timid exterior and found the love of his life in a humble hot springs resort. Down on the ice were the top three skaters in the world. First stood a Khazaki man who had somehow broken through the cold character of a small blonde Russian, opening the door for future friends and family to enter his life. He was the silver medalist. Then, there was the rambunctious Canadian skater that learned how to care more about others feelings. Winking at the camera, he held up his well-deserved gold medal. Being a friendlier, less-selfish version of himself, he decided to not be in the center of attention for once.

The person in the middle of the photo was a blonde man, smiling as his bronze medal hung around his neck. He was not smiling because of that. He smiled because these people, whether he wanted them or not, were stuck with him. He smiled because he found an unlikely group of people that would support him and love him every step of the way in his career and life. He smiled because he loved the city of Detroit, a place where he learned about the annoyances of school, the pitfalls of romance, and a certain type of love called agape.

Unconditional love.

He smiled because the girl next to him had just kissed him. An annoying, random blonde girl from Detroit who smiled through so many good and bad times. A girl with bad puns and jokes and energy that seemed to warm the entire room whenever she walked in.

Yuri Plisetsky told himself whenever he saw the picture that he would cherish Isabel Flynn for the rest of his life, regardless of whether they stayed together for that long. Not only her, but he would cherish everyone else in the snapshot.

Yes, even JJ.

So the picture stayed in it's rightful place in the center of the display case. And there it would stay.

It was a picture of Yuri Plisetsky's new family. A picture of Yuuri Katsuki's and Victor Nikiforov's and Otabek Altin's and Jean-Jacques Leroy's and Isabel Flynn's new family.

A picture of their family.

* * *

 _Detroit and The Good Life With You_

 **The End.**

* * *

 **That's it! It's over! Our long, national nightmare is over!**

 **Seriously, i pumped out the first twenty chapters in about a month or so. And the last few took over a month to get out. I've been super busy, so I apologize.**

 **By the way, just like to note the coincidence of beginning and ending on sex scenes. Especially since this fic is not at all about that!**

 **Also, if you were paying attention, the bow tie was the one from the store back in chapter 3 or 4. Funny.**

 **Wow! I am so happy and shocked I finished this in a relatively timely manner. I have so much to say and so many to thank, so let's calm down for a second.**

 **I had most of this story planned out when I first wrote it. After watching Yuri On Ice!, I was happy about watching a very good anime. Was it as good as I think the fandom has let on? Not really. There are definitely flaws with the show. One of which is relatability. Frankly, it's hard to relate to somebody being only the 6th best skater in the world, which is the problem faced with Yuuri Katsuki. His motivation? His drive? How he cares for his family? None of that is explored. The emotions we can relate to: loneliness, sadness, fear for needing acceptance, are hardly explored. It's not necessary, but I think that big link that is missing was the one that would have made Yuri On Ice! an all time classic (if it isn't already).**

 **I tried to remedy this by writing what I felt would be basically my version of a second (or third) season. That would explain the length as well, considering this is the longest fic on this site for Yuri On Ice! so far!**

 **Isabel, my OC, was supposed to be ironic. Such a cartoonish, vibrant character was the one that would add that real, emotional element to the story that was missing in Yuri On Ice! in my opinion. I'm so happy that she was well- received. There are quite a few Yuri/OC fics out there, so I'm thrilled you have decided that this was good enough for your attention.**

 **I adore Yuri On Ice!, but I am very satisfied with the entire fic I have written, and I am filled with joy that you, the dear readers, are as well. We don't do this for fame or the hope that someone at the studio will see it and make it reality (although I can dream). We do it to entertain you, and I hope I have done well.**

 **Things I would have done differently? Make it shorter. Fix grammar. Some scenes or prose were unnecessary. Also, there was a skater named Jake that pops in once or twice during the story. He was supposed to be a bit of a antagonist, but I felt midway through that this was unnecessary. Sad!**

 **Other than that, everything else was planned except for JJ.**

 **Frankly, I just thought Yuri's girlfriend befriending his arch-rival was too funny to pass up. Looks like you all agree.**

 **Final shoutouts:**

 **To bstarqueen and erzatscarlett: I'm bunching you two together because you left the most consistent and some of the best reviews I could have imagined. You were there from the very beginning, and I thank you so much. bstarqueen with your deep analysis that helped me so much and gave me the goofiest smiles. erzatscarlett with your frank and open musings on the setting and characters. You were here every step of the way, and I hope that you are there in whatever I write next.**

 **To StarlightNALU: you gave me a good vision of what the readers saw when I wrote, and I can't thank you enough for that. I try to write for others so much, and you reminded me to write for myself.**

 **To Applejack456 and Quirkygirl775: Quick, but comforting words were coming from your reviews all the time. Again, the way you showed how I affected the reader emotionally gave me the energy to push forward.**

 **To ChibiRacoon and MeganAnnabethJackson: Even though you have not reviewed the more recent chapters, I can't thank you enough for the amazing critiques you gave. I hope you read this, and I hope you review and respond, because I would love to know if you liked the rest of the story.**

 **And to all of the other reviewers, favoriters, and 130+ followers, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Your encouragement, words, reviews, and views made me grow as a writer and gave me the will to push through when inspiration turned to writers block and when excitement turned to fatigue. you were the antidotes that reversed those states and gave me the tools to write with passion.**

 **If you have any questions about this fic, I may do a quick Q &A chapter. Regardless, I will try to PM every reviewer individually to give my thanks. It isn't enough, but it is all I can afford. **

**My next fic is not nearly as long and may not be written as quickly, but it is one I hope piques your curiosity. It is called "Hospital Food." It is a Hospital AU where our favorite figure skaters are nurses and doctors at a hospital. However, things change when famous skater Yuri Plisetsky attempts suicide. The story will be his week long stay in the hospital where he has to survive these lovestruck doctors (guess who they are), annoying nurses, and realize his purpose in life and yada yada yada.**

 **It sounds serious, Yuri attempting suicide and all, but there will be the balance of angst and humor that you have hopefully grown to expect and love from me.**

 **So now I leave you. 35 chapters and four months later.**

 **Keep reading. Keep reviewing. Keep loving the gift of literature and art. My words have meaning now because you have read them.**

 **Thank you. See you soon!**

 **Davai!**


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